


Break

by Titch360



Series: My Version of Events [61]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 12:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titch360/pseuds/Titch360
Summary: "Everything you say to me, sends me one step closer to the edge, and I'm about to break"  --Linkin Park.





	1. Break

Break

Chapter 1: Break

A sigh was released in the Mount Justice training room for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. Five nervously anxious youths were seated in the space, waiting for their normally punctual, but abnormally late, sixth member.

“Where do you think Robin is,” Impulse asked quietly.

“Do you think he forgot about training tonight,” Speedy asked.

Mercury shook his head, “I talked to him a few days ago. He said he’d be here.”

“You talked to him,” Impulse asked in a surprised voice.

“Well, I texted him,” Mercury replied with a shrug.

“Dad said they had a bad week, though,” Impulse said, “Maybe he’s not coming, after all.”

Superboy glanced at Impulse, thinking about her comment. _A bad week, huh? I wonder how bad it was. Damian told me once that, if he’s late like this, he’s usually talking to…his therapist. This could be bad, but I can’t tell everyone about that. He didn’t tell me that I couldn’t talk about it, but he didn’t tell the rest of the team that he’s in therapy, either._

Beast Boy looked around and asked, “Well, should we, like, get started with something, or go over what he taught us last time?”

Mercury thought about it and said, “He’ll ask why we’re just sitting around, waiting for him. Maybe he’s testing us, to see if we can work without his leadership?”

“Are you volunteering to lead us, BB,” Speedy asked with a smile.

Beast Boy smiled, “If you want me to, but SB does a better impersonation of him than I do.”

“Come on, Superboy,” Impulse said, “take Robin’s place. It won’t be the first time.”

Superboy smiled and changed his voice to be a perfect match for the Boy Wonder. “How lazy are all of you, if you need me in the room to get off your butts and start working? I think we’ll do Motivation Training tonight. I’ll motivate all of you to work on your own, even if it kills you. Come on, you can do this.”

The kids giggled at the spot-on impersonation. Superboy stood and put his hands on his hips with a smile, “Oh, you think this is funny? Well, it won’t be funny when a bad guy sticks a grenade down your shorts. Maybe that will finally motivate all of you.”

Superboy patted his waist, like he was searching an invisible utility belt. “In fact, I think I have a spare Bat-Grenade around here somewhere. Who wants to volunteer to have me shove it down your pants?”

The kids were now howling with laughter, and Superboy found it impossible to keep a straight face, or to continue with the impersonation.

“Oh, man,” Mercury said, wiping at his leaking eyes, “Don’t ever let Robin find out you do that.”

“Who do you think _taught_ me how to do that,” Superboy asked between chuckles.

Speedy smiled, “So, you sound exactly like him, you have your own Robin uniform in your size, and you’ve gone on patrol in Gotham as Robin. Are you sure he’s not here? Did you finally complete your plan to replace Robin entirely?”

Superboy shook his head, “I wanted to see if I could fool all of you, but Robin didn’t think that would be a good idea.”

“Any idea where he is,” Mercury asked.

Superboy shook his head, “I haven’t talked to him since our last training, two weeks ago.”

“Someone has to know what’s going on,” Impulse said.

The kids fell silent for several minutes, until Superboy looked towards the door and found Superman standing there. The Man of Steel had been standing in the door for a couple minutes, wondering how to bring up his topic.

“Dad? What’s going on,” Superboy asked.

The rest of the team turned to look at Superman, who sighed before entering the training room. “Hey, kids. Thank you all for being patient. I’m afraid we’re going to have to cancel your training tonight, though.”

The team groaned, and Beast Boy asked, “What’s going on?”

Superman tried not to look as hesitant as he felt, “Robin…isn’t going to be able to make it tonight.”

Beast Boy cocked his head in confusion, “I could have sworn I saw him earlier, though. I got here early tonight. I know I saw him.”

Superman opened his mouth to reply, but Batman walked into the room and cut him off. “You did see him, Beast Boy, but your training is still canceled for tonight. Robin is…sick, and he’s going home.”

“Sick,” Impulse asked, “How bad is it?”

Batman stared down at the girl, “We don’t want to risk any of you catching anything, so we’re playing it safe. He’ll get better after some rest.”

Robin walked up slowly and stood next to Batman, shocking his team with his appearance. He wasn’t wearing his eye mask, which was concerning to the youths. Robin never left the cave without a mask. What was more concerning was the state of Robin’s face. His eyes were red and puffy, and if Speedy and Impulse were to guess, they would say Robin had been crying.

Robin reached out and placed a hand on Batman’s arm. “Father,” Robin said in a hoarse voice, “They deserve to know the truth.”

_Two Weeks Ago…_

“Wow. These guys have got some balls.”

Bruce walked up behind the computer chair with a smile. Tim was sitting in the chair, checking a news feed.

“Who has balls,” Bruce asked.

Tim pointed at the screen, “There is a group calling themselves BCC that I’ve been reading about lately.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes in thought, “BCC? That sounds familiar.”

“They’re bank robbers,” Tim said.

Bruce snapped his fingers, “That’s right. I knew I knew that name. I saw a report on them on the news last night.”

“I saw that, too,” Tim said. 

Bruce looked down at his third son with a smile, “Tim, you were sitting right next to me on the couch when that report came on the news last night.”

Tim tried unsuccessfully to hide his blush, “Oh, right.”

“Why do you say they have balls, Tim,” Bruce asked.

Tim clicked on a social media post he had been viewing, “BCC claims they are unstoppable. They announced that their World Tour of Crime…yes, they called it a World Tour of Crime…is coming to Gotham.”

Bruce cocked his head, “They announced where they’re going to hit next?”

Tim nodded, “Yep.”

“Wow,” Bruce said, “they _do_ have some balls.”

“That’s what I said,” Tim said.

“Who’s got some balls,” Dick asked, walking up to the pair.

Bruce rolled his eyes, “We’re not doing this. I didn’t build the Batcave for comedy routines. If you showed up to briefings on time, we wouldn’t have to explain things over and over.”

“What are you explaining over and over,” Damian asked as he approached the group.

Tim giggled as Bruce shook his head, “Seriously? It’s like you guys plan this ahead of time.”

“You should know by now that we don’t plan anything nearly as much as we should,” Jason said.

Bruce shook his head while rubbing his temples, “Enough, please. Tim, just get on with it. Start over, from the top.”

Tim smiled, “Okay. As I was saying, these guys have some…”

“Stop,” Bruce interrupted, “Just the briefing, Tim.”

Tim sighed in a good-natured way, “Fine. BCC. According to their social media presence, it stands for Bank Cracking Crew. They are living up to their name. So far, they have eighteen high-profile, successful bank robberies to their credit, in six different states. They have hit banks in Georgia, South Carolina, Kentucky, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, and New York. They are currently number one on the Treasury Department’s Most Wanted list, and number five on the FBI’s Most Wanted list.”

“Is this just information,” Jason asked.

Tim shook his head, “Nope. We are next on the hit parade.”

“How do you know,” Jason asked.

“They told us,” Tim said, “They told the world, actually. They put a post on their Facebook page yesterday stating Gotham City is next on their list of targets.”

“Yesterday,” Bruce asked, “So, we have a few days until we have to watch out for them.”

“What do you mean,” Dick asked.

Bruce turned to his sons, “I’ve seen some stuff about this group, too. Once they pull out of a city or state, there is a gap between crimes. Their last crime was reported in New York yesterday.”

Dick nodded, “So, we can guess that they are already in town and looking for targets.”

Damian smirked, “These fools have no idea what they’re in for. We’ll put an end to their reign of terror.”

Tim turned his chair, “I hate to burst your bubble, no matter how enthusiastic you are right now, but I think we are the reason they’re coming to Gotham.”

“Explain that, Tim,” Bruce said, “What are you talking about?”

Tim brought up the social media post on the big screen, “Look here. ‘Bats and Birds won’t stop us from busting the banks.”

Dick nodded appreciatively, “Alliterative and brave.”

“Foolhardy,” Damian said.

“That, too,” Dick said.

Bruce crossed his arms over his chest, “They’ve done their research. They know we’re here, and watching the city.”

“Calling us out is never a good idea,” Jason said.

Bruce said, “If they follow their normal pattern, we have a couple days before the first bank job. If they are making this boast, they will most likely be watching us at the same time they’re scouting banks.”

“So, what do we do,” Tim asked, “Stay home?”

Bruce shook his head, “No, of course not. Just be a little more vigilant about your surroundings. We tend to draw a crowd sometimes. Start watching the crowds.”

The boys all mumbled agreement, and Bruce turned back to Tim, “Okay, Tim. Tell us more about BCC. What have you learned so far?”

Tim sighed, “Unfortunately, not a lot. We don’t even know how many members they have.”

“Why not,” Jason asked.

“It seems like they only bring as many members as they need for a job,” Tim said, “For the jobs they have claimed credit for, they have used as few as three people, and as many as fifteen.”

“How many jobs are we talking about again,” Dick asked.

Tim looked up, “Eighteen successful, claimed bank jobs. I’ll throw this out now, too. Twenty-three bodies go along with those jobs, as well. BCC has shown no remorse in taking a life to get away. They have killed bank guards, tellers, bank managers, customers, and two police officers.”

Bruce took a deep breath, “Don’t take risks out there if you don’t have to. I want no perforated partners.”

“I’m not going to run just because they pull a gun,” Damian said.

“I didn’t say run,” Bruce said, “I said be careful.”

“If we’re done rhyming,” Tim said, “BCC does take precautions for their safety. Bulletproof vests and face masks are noted in all of their crimes.”

“Tell us about the crimes,” Bruce said, “When are they most likely to hit?”

Tim frowned, “That’s the problem, for us, at least. All but one of their crimes have occurred during normal business hours.”

Dick sighed, “Of course, they’re going to call us out. Everyone knows we only work nights.”

Bruce thought for a second, “Then, we focus on the one crime on the list that occurred after business hours. Get everything you can on that robbery.”

“That’ll take a few minutes, Bruce,” Tim said.

“We’ll wait,” Bruce said seriously.

Several minutes later, Tim said, “Okay, I’ve got it. Their last job in Massachusetts. They hit a credit union just south Longmeadow, exactly at midnight. They were on their way out of the state and must have decided on one last score. They killed the night watchman and made off with three million dollars, a water cooler, all of those pens that are chained to the counter, and the bank manager’s office chair.”

“How did they get in,” Bruce asked as Dick laughed at the list of stolen items.

“Reciprocating saw,” Tim said, “Cut straight through the wall.”

“What did the security camera footage show,” Dick asked.

Tim brought up the footage and narrated the events, “A panel van pulls up to the drive-thru ATM. No plates, of course. One person steps out of the passenger seat and takes out the external security cameras.”

Jason leaned closer to the screen as the criminal on screen took aim, “That’s a paintball gun.”

“Yep,” Tim said, “it’s a hell of a lot quieter than shooting out the cameras with a regular gun. After taking out the cameras, they carved their hole in the wall.” The camera angle changed to an interior camera, “One guy entered, and started taking out the interior cameras. They only left one working, in the entrance of the bank. They couldn’t get to that one.”

“Where’s the night watchman,” Dick asked.

Tim pointed at the screen, “Right there.”

A man in a guard uniform ran onscreen from the back of the bank. He was able to pull his pistol out of his holster before he was shot multiple times by the robbers, and slumped lifelessly to the floor.

“He hit the silent alarm before he was gunned down,” Tim said, “Police will show up in eight minutes, but the robbers will be gone in five.”

Bruce froze the image and took a closer look at the four robbers onscreen. “Gloves, masks, weapons, tools, van. They came prepared.”

“They policed their brass, too,” Jason said.

“They’re meticulous,” Bruce said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“They’re all wearing the same clothes,” Dick said, “Makes getting an accurate headcount harder when they all look alike.”

“Six,” Damian said.

“What,” Tim asked.

“They used six for this job,” Damian said.

“I only count four,” Bruce said, “How do you get six?”

Damian pushed Tim’s chair out of the way, sending his older brother sliding a couple feet away, and bringing a smile to Dick’s face. He rewound the footage and froze on an image he had noticed earlier. “Look here. They are loading the van. Four guys are in the bank. They are handing items to a fifth person, still in the back of the van. That is probably the same one who shot the exterior cameras.”

“And number six,” Jason asked.

Damian turned his head to look at his elder brother, “They would be idiots if they had the driver do anything more than drive. They haven’t been caught yet, so we can assume they aren’t idiots.”

Jason rolled his eyes, “Okay, fine. I guess that is an accurate guess, Squirt.”

Damian bristled at the name, but didn’t say anything. Dick noticed his youngest brother glaring dangerously at Jason and stepped between his brothers.

Bruce nodded, “Okay. Now we know what to look for. Tonight, I want you all to fan out. Take down anything that looks suspicious. We know they’re coming, and we know they’re watching. Let’s make an example of some of our criminals tonight. Maybe we can scare BCC off before they start.”

_The Next Night…_

“It’s an organized crew, Batman, and, there’s a lot of them.”

“I’m aware of that, Commissioner Gordon,” Batman said over the Bat-Phone, “I watch the news, too.”

During the day, BCC had made their presence known in town. Three banks had fallen to their coordinated efforts. Three more had seen bats spray-painted on their walls, in a clear provocation of the city’s vigilantes.

“Are you planning on doing anything about this, Batman,” Commissioner Gordon asked.

“During the day, the city is your responsibility,” Batman said.

Commissioner Gordon said, “These people are obviously looking for you, though. Unless…you and your partners haven’t taken up bank robbery, have you?”

“No,” Batman said humorlessly.

“Are they marking targets,” Gordon asked.

“Or, creating a false trail,” Batman said, “Either way, we’re looking into them.”

“Good,” Commissioner Gordon said, hanging up the phone.

Bruce hung up the Bat-Phone with a sigh and turned away from the computer. “I didn’t expect them to hit so fast after coming to town,” Bruce said, rubbing his forehead.

Jason crossed his arms over his chest, “They called us out. They were bound to work fast, Bruce.”

Bruce glanced over, “Think there is any chance of BCC hitting those banks they tagged tonight?”

“I think they’ll be expecting us to be watching those banks,” Jason said.

“If I were them, I would go to the farthest bank possible from those three,” Tim said.

“Bring up a map of the city, Tim,” Bruce said, “Mark down the three banks they robbed and the three they painted.”

A map appeared on the big screen. Several seconds later, six dots lit up in a circle, almost exactly in the middle of the city.

Bruce stroked his chin as he stared at the map. “Okay, where are they going next?”

“I still say as far from these sites as possible,” Tim said.

“Which leaves us where,” Bruce asked.

“If it were me, I’d go to Bludhaven,” Dick said, walking up to the group.

“That always was your specialty,” Jason said.

Dick reached out and flicked Jason’s ear, “Not to run away. To throw us off their scent. They made a statement today. They have to know that the heat is on. What better way to throw everyone off than to hit targets in a very near, yet definitely out-of-town, location?”

Bruce shook his head, “Very near, yes, but I don’t think they are going to go out of town at this point. They hit the center of the financial district. If I were planning these heists, I’d go for something a bit easier next, to probe for weaknesses.”

Tim split the screen and zoomed in on two different spots on the map. Jason and Dick nodded slowly as Tim said, “How about these areas?”

Bruce let a slow breath out, “Gotham Heights and mid-Crime Alley. They are certainly likely spots.”

“The big question is,” Tim said, “would out-of-town criminals, who, as far as we know, have only been in town for one or two days, know that.”

The cave fell silent as the four crime fighters pondered the situation. They were all realizing that there were too many banks in Gotham City, and they needed more information before they could make a profile of this group.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Damian said, walking up to the computer.

“Where’ve you been, Little D,” Dick asked, “I haven’t seen you all day.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “First day of classes for the new semester. I made a couple mistakes when I was registering for classes. First, I signed up for the on-campus class, instead of the online one. Second, I misread the schedule. The class is seven P.M., not seven A.M., like I thought it was.”

Jason smirked at the teen, “Wait, have you been at school since seven this morning, waiting for a night class?”

“No, idiot,” Damian said, rolling his eyes, “I’ve been there since three, when my other class was. I saw the mistake when I checked my schedule this morning.”

“I thought Alfred seemed a bit rushed during dinner,” Bruce said.

Damian released a rough sigh, “I don’t see why I can’t just drive myself. It would save a lot of time for Alfred. I have a learner’s permit, and I’ve been driving since I was five.”

“But you don’t have a license,” Bruce said, “We’ve been over this already, pal. I know you’re a good driver, but you have to follow the laws here. You can get your license in October, when you turn sixteen.”

Damian shook his head and mumbled, “Almost ten more months.”

“Hang in there,” Dick said, patting his brother’s shoulder.

“Since you’re waiting,” Tim said, “you can help us with our current problem. BCC was busy today. They robbed three banks, and spray-painted bats on the walls of three more. We’re trying to figure out their next targets.”

Damian looked at the map, “And you think they’re going to target these areas next?”

Tim shrugged, “Why not? Today, they hit in the center of the Financial District, which is almost exactly the center of Gotham City. The fringes of the city will have a lower police presence, and could be used to keep us guessing.”

Damian looked at the map and said, “I understand Gotham Heights, but why are they going to hit banks in Crime Alley?”

“Why wouldn’t they hit Crime Alley,” Jason asked.

Damian glanced up, “Because of the name, and the known fact that it is a high crime, low income area. You don’t commit crimes in an area known for high crime rates, if you don’t want to get caught. Higher crime rates equal increased police patrols and better security systems on things people don’t want stolen. Also, since it is a low income area, there is less likely to be large amounts of cash readily available in a Crime Alley bank. The Gotham Heights banks are perfect targets, for being the exact opposite of the Crime Alley locations.”

Dick smiled and patted Damian’s shoulder, “_Someone’s_ been studying up.”

Damian blushed a bit, “I’m taking another Criminology course this semester. That was our first lesson today.”

“So, we look at Gotham Heights, then,” Tim asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” Bruce said.

“Why are we assuming that the simple answer isn’t the correct one,” Damian asked. “They robbed three banks and marked three banks. Can’t we assume that they are going to hit the three they marked?”

“Everything is on the table right now, Damian,” Bruce said. “The truth is, we don’t know enough about them to rule anything out. So, we are going to have to split up. I want you all to do standard patrols, but watch any banks and financial institutions you come across. Damian, you and I are going to sweep Gotham Heights. Dick and Tim, watch the three marked banks in the Financial District. Jason, make a sweep of Crime Alley. You know the area down there the best, and can predict potential targets.”

With an agreed plan, the crime fighters changed into their uniforms and hit the streets. Nightwing just barely kept his laugh to himself as they rode into town. He had always thought they looked like a biker gang when they rolled out in force. Three motorcycles following the Batmobile made quite an impact on people they passed.

Not that there were too many people out on the streets tonight. This winter had been harsh and cold. Road crews had worked overtime just to keep the ice and snow off of the main highways. Light flurries were blowing around, but offered little in the way of accumulation tonight. Still, below freezing temperatures were never fun for patrol.

It was nights like this when Nightwing was very glad he had moved away from the scaly green shorts.

As they hit the main highway into Gotham City, the group split to take care of their assignments. Red Hood peeled off first, to head to the south end of the city. As soon as Red Hood was out of sight, Batman floored the Batmobile’s accelerator and rocketed away from his odd numbered sons.

Shaking his head, Nightwing pulled in front of Red Robin and motioned for the younger man to follow. The pair pulled off the highway and took a circuitous route into the heart of the city.

Stopping in an alley in the Financial District, Red Robin asked, “Did you take that route just for fun, or does the rising price of gas not bother you?”

Nightwing smiled, “They’re electric motorcycles, Little Bird. The price of gas is not bothering me tonight.”

“Then, why not take the direct route,” Red Robin asked.

Nightwing cocked his head, “Did you not pay attention to where we were going? Did you not notice the eight banks we passed on our way here?”

Red Robin’s eyes widened under his cowl. “Eight? I only counted five.”

Nightwing shrugged, then pulled a grapple gun and launched a line to a nearby rooftop. Red Robin followed the older vigilante to the roof, and Nightwing said, “You need to pay more attention. That’s okay, there was no activity at any of them. We’re going to have to split up to cover the banks. Why don’t you take this one, and I’ll move on to the far one. We’ll have to try and split time between us to cover the third marked bank.”

Nightwing pointed down at a building across the street. Red Robin could see the bats painted on the wall, under a light.

Red Robin nodded, “Okay, I’ll take this one. Which one are you going to take?”

Nightwing thought for a second, “I’ll take the Fifth-Third bank over on Baker. That leaves Gotham Federal between us, on 60th.”

Red Robin thought about the locations, “That one is closer to here than the one you’re going to. I’ll check it out every ten minutes.”

“I’ll see you there,” Nightwing said, before jumping back down to street level and taking off on his motorcycle. Red Robin settled in to watch and wait.

_Meanwhile…_

_I think I got the easy assignment,_ Red Hood thought as he rode through the nearly deserted streets of Crime Alley, _there are only ten banks in all of Crime Alley. I think the Squirt was right. I don’t think they’re coming down here. At least, not tonight._

Red Hood pulled to a stop in the middle of Alder Avenue, and sighed as he took in a new building. _I see he rebuilt. My old landlord must have had the building insured for many times what it was worth. There’s no way he could afford to build a new apartment building three stories taller than the last one with the rents he was charging when I lived here._

Not wanting to get drawn back into the painful memories of his old home and lost neighbors, Red Hood gunned his engine and roared off down the street, looking for another bank on his grand circle tour of Crime Alley.

_Meanwhile…_

“Seriously? Another one?”

Batman could relate to Robin’s frustration as they passed the latest bank they came across in Gotham Heights. This was their tenth financial institution of the night, and like all the others, it had a police squad car parked out front.

Robin turned to Batman and said, “No wonder we’re always so busy at night. Gordon has all of his cops stationed outside banks in the expensive part of town.”

“I’m sure they aren’t always here, Robin,” Batman said, “It must have to do with the new bank robbers in town.”

“Gordon doesn’t have enough officers to cover every bank in Gotham,” Robin pointed out, “Why are all of these guarded?”

“I think you answered you own question before you asked it,” Batman said, “This is the expensive part of town. I’m sure the bank managers heard of the robberies in town and requested police guard for the night.”

Robin let out a breath, “I bet Red Hood isn’t finding this same level of police activity in Crime Alley.”

“No, he probably isn’t.”

Robin turned to look at Batman again, “So, the real question is, do we continue to waste time here, or do we expand our search to other parts of the city?”

Batman had just been asking himself that same question. They hadn’t yet covered all of the banks in Gotham Heights, but the streets were empty and the banks they had seen all had police protection. One car per bank wouldn’t really be enough to stop BCC if they chose to hit one with substantial force, but it would be enough to deter them if they didn’t want to make a lot of noise.

“We’ll keep searching Gotham Heights, but we’ll start to work our way closer to the center of the city.”

Robin nodded and slouched in his seat.

Fifteen minutes later, and growing frustrated with his choice, Batman activated the radio. “Red Hood, report.”

It took a minute for Hood to respond, “It’s a ghost town down here. No activity whatsoever. It’s too cold out. Crime Alley crime always slows down when it’s cold like this.”

“How many banks have you passed,” Batman asked.

“All of them,” Hood replied, “Twice. There are only ten officially recognized, branded banks in all of Crime Alley. I doubt BCC is going to hit mob stash houses, off-book betting parlors, or the dog track. That just leaves me with some small bank branches. Like I said, no activity.”

“How many of your banks have protection,” Robin asked.

Red Hood was confused by the question, “They have walls and alarms. What were you expecting? A drawbridge and a moat?”

“Every Gotham Heights bank we’ve passed so far has a patrol car stationed out front,” Robin said, “I was just telling Batman that your banks wouldn’t be as well protected.”

“Well, you’re right,” Red Hood sighed, “I would be surprised if I’ve seen five police cars down here all night.”

“They’re all up here,” Batman said.

“They’re not here, either,” Red Robin said, breaking into the radio conversation, “but they should be. I’ve got a van pulling up to Gotham Federal.”

“I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Nightwing said.

“Robin, I don’t want to hear it,” Red Robin said.

“…Hear what,” Robin asked, confused.

“That you were right about the location of the next robbery,” Nightwing said with a laugh.

“Oh, that,” Robin said, “Well, Red Robin should have been able to predict the correct location. After all, it was the simple answer.”

“And it took a simple mind to come up with it,” Red Hood said.

“It takes one to…” Robin started before being cut off by Batman.

“Enough, you two. What are they doing, Red Robin?”

Red Robin observed the scene for a second, “They’re just sitting there. It looks like they are scoping out camera locations. Wait, the van is moving. They’re backing up to the wall. Looks like they’re going to go through the wall where they painted the bats.”

“Hey, remember the Italian Job,” Nightwing said over the radio. “You don’t suppose the paint is more than paint, do you?”

“Explosive, maybe,” Red Hood said.

“It would make the job go a lot quicker,” Red Robin said.

“How close are you, Red Robin,” Batman asked.

“I’m directly across the street, on top of the Tesla dealership. It’s a three-story building.”

“Think you can disable the van from where you are,” Batman asked.

Red Robin thought about it for a second, “Probably. I’d feel better about trying it if I knew how many people were actually in that van, though.”

A loud, mechanical whine filled the air, and a plume of dust drifted up from between the van and the wall.

“They’re cutting through the wall. It’s some sort of power saw. I guess we don’t have to worry about explosives just yet.”

“I’m a block away,” Nightwing said.

“We’re on our way, too,” Batman said, “We’re about twenty-five minutes out.”

“They’ll be long gone by then,” Red Robin said, “Their past heists have all lasted less than nine minutes.”

“Red Hood,” Batman asked.

“Fifteen minutes out,” Hood replied, “I’ll see if I can make it ten.”

“Are you Red Robin or Joe Bystander,” Robin asked over the radio, “If they’re going to be gone in nine minutes, then do something to prevent that from happening.”

“I’m open to suggestions, if you think this is so easy,” Red Robin said peevishly.

“You’ve got a whole belt full of toys and gadgets,” Robin said, “Find something in there that will turn the engine of the van into an eight hundred pound paperweight.”

Nightwing crouched next to Red Robin on the car dealership roof to survey the scene. He understood now why Red Robin hadn’t moved. “That’s easier said than done, Robin,” Nightwing said, “They are stopped right under a light, and the driver and passenger are still in the van. Can’t tell what type they are from here, but the robbers are holding some pretty big rifles. With their position and the lighting around the bank, they can see anyone coming from three blocks in any direction.”

The bank’s alarm began blaring as the robbers completed their hole in the wall.

“No more time to think, Little Brother,” Nightwing said, “They’re in.”

“Make sure they don’t leave the bank,” Batman said.

“We’ll do what we can,” Red Robin said, “I’ve got a plan.”

“Want to let me in on it,” Nightwing asked.

Red Robin pulled two flash bang grenades out of his utility belt and handed one to Nightwing. “Think you can get that through the driver’s side window?”

Nightwing looked at the van, “Not from here.”

“How about from next to the van?”

Nightwing smirked, “No problem. What are you going to do?”

Red Robin held up his own grenade, “I’m going to get this one through the hole in the wall behind the van, and see how many of them we can take down.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nightwing said, “Let’s go.”

The odd-numbered vigilantes dropped to ground level in the alley next to the dealership. They stood, glancing around the corner, and Nightwing asked, “How do you want to get close enough to launch our assault?”

“Run,” Red Robin said as he took a deep breath and sprinted out of cover.

“How about a countdown next time,” Nightwing yelled at his brother as he ran after his partner.

“We’ve wasted enough time as is it,” Red Robin shouted back.

The driver and passenger of the van were pointing in the direction of the two heroes. In a great boon to Nightwing, the driver rolled his window down, to aim his rifle at Nightwing.

“Fire in the hole,” Nightwing called out as he primed his grenade and let it fly.

As the rifle barrel exited the window, the grenade entered. Nightwing hit the deck, squeezed his eyes tightly closed, and covered his ears. The noise of the explosion was still loud against his covered ears, but the blinding flash went unseen by the vigilante. A second later, a second detonation, this time inside the bank, assaulted the robbers.

Nightwing looked up to see Red Robin enter the bank. Nightwing walked up to the van and reached in the open driver’s side window. He grabbed the driver’s and passenger’s rifles.

“I’ll take those. You should know better than to play with guns.”

The vehicle’s occupants didn’t notice Nightwing at all. The driver was slumped over in his seat, unconscious. The passenger was slapping frantically at his shirt. The flash bang grenade had landed in his lap a second before exploding, and his shirt was now on fire.

Nightwing hurried around the van while shaking his head, and pulled the burning man out of the vehicle. “Roll, you idiot. Didn’t you learn ‘stop, drop, and roll’ in Elementary School?”

The man rolled, extinguishing the flames.

Once he was no longer burning, Nightwing knelt and bound the man’s hands with thick zip ties. “I’m afraid we’re adding one more step tonight. Now, it’s ‘stop, drop, roll, and go to jail’.”

“Nightwing! I need your help,” Red Robin shouted.

Nightwing patted the back of the potential robber’s head, “Be a good boy and stay here.”

Nightwing stepped through the hole in the bank wall to find a scene he wasn’t expecting. Red Robin’s flash bang was not as effective as they hoped it would be. The younger vigilante had restrained three of the robbers before the other seven could regain their senses and realize what had happened. Red Robin had done his best, but seven against one were not favorable odds, even for one of Gotham’s crime fighters, when all seven were armed.

“Here’s where the party is,” Nightwing said as he grabbed the back of one of the robber’s shirts and flung him away from Red Robin.

“Not my idea of a party,” Red Robin said, punching a robber in the face.

“There’s a lot more of them than I thought there’s be,” Nightwing said, turning to take a back to back fighting stance with Red Robin.

“Let’s go. Cut bait,” one of the robbers, the same one Nightwing had tossed, called out.

Nightwing and Red Robin looked over at the man, who was standing at the back door of the van, holding a rifle on Nightwing and Red Robin. The robbers, at least the ones who were still conscious and not tied up, headed for the van.

“What about the money,” one asked.

“Forget it,” the gun-toting crook said, “There are plenty of banks in this city.”

The man aimed the rifle at Red Robin as the engine of the van started up, “You got close, but this is as close as you’ll get. We can’t be stopped. You’ll find that out tomorrow night.”

Nightwing’s eyes widened under his mask as he saw the man’s finger tighten on the rifle’s trigger.

“NO,” Nightwing yelled, diving to push Red Robin out of the way of the burst of gunfire.

When the vigilantes looked up again, the van was gone.

“Red, you okay,” Nightwing asked in a pained voice.

“Yeah,” Red Robin replied, “You?”

“Um,” Nightwing said, rolling off of his brother with a wince and a groan, “I think he got me.”

Red Robin sat bolt upright, “What do you mean, they got you?”

“What do you mean, they got you,” Batman echoed insistently over the open comm line.

Nightwing and Red Robin looked down to see a tear in the right side of Nightwing’s uniform. More concerning than the tear was the half-inch wide, half-inch deep, five inch long gash in Nightwing’s side, seemingly between two ribs.

Red Robin gasped, “Oh my god! You’ve been shot!”

“It’s just a graze,” Nightwing said, “It’s hardly even bleeding.”

“Patch him up and get him home, Red Robin,” Batman said, “I’ll report this to the police, if they aren’t on their way already. Did the robbers get away?”

“Some of them,” Red Robin said, “We’ve got five detained. I can hear sirens approaching.”

“Tend to Nightwing,” Robin said forcefully.

Nightwing smiled at Red Robin, then winced, “It’s been a long time since I’ve been shot. I don’t remember it burning this much.”

Red Robin took a closer look at the wound, “There’s something in the wound. It looks white.”

“I’m wearing a white Under Armor shirt under my uniform,” Nightwing said, “it’s probably a piece of that.”

Red Robin shrugged as he laid a piece of gauze over the wound. His eyes widened under his cowl as the gauze started smoking, and a small flame flashed into life.

“Holy shit,” Red Robin said as he yanked the gauze off of Nightwing’s side and stomped the flame out.

“What happened,” Batman and Robin asked at the same time.

“The gauze just spontaneously combusted.”

“That’s not possible,” Robin denied immediately.

Batman began putting clues together in his head, “Heat, white, flame. Red Robin, don’t touch the wound. Do you have any Gel Foam in your utility belt?”

“Of course,” Red Robin said, pulling out a spray can of the substance, “Why?”

“Coat the wound in it,” Batman said, “As much as you can get to stay on there. Keep Nightwing inside, out of wind and drafts.”

Red Robin began spraying the wound, using up the entire can of gel, “Okay. What’s the big deal, though? What is it?”

“From everything you’re describing, it sounds like he was hit with White Phosphorus rounds.”

“Never heard of them,” Nightwing said.

“Are those new,” Robin asked.

Red Hood and the police showed up at the bank at the same time. The police took the detained robbers out to their prisoner transport while Red Hood knelt next to Nightwing. He picked up the burned gauze and said, “Wow, you weren’t kidding. It really did catch fire.”

“Well, what are they, Batman,” Nightwing asked, “Are these white phosphorus rounds new?”

“No,” Batman said, “They’re old. They were outlawed after the Korean War for being especially barbaric. The rounds will continue to burn until there’s no oxygen to feed the fire. That’s why I had Red Robin apply the Gel Foam. It will keep air away from the phosphorus. Don’t move, Nightwing, we’ll be there in a minute.”

Red Hood looked up, and could be heard sniffing under his helmet, “Sorry, we have to move. Something’s burning in here, and it’s not Nightwing.”

Commissioner Gordon walked through the hole in the wall, and asked, “What’s going on here, boys?”

Red Hood pointed to a chair in the bank lobby, which had smoke wafting out of the seatback padding, “A fire. Call the fire department, now.”

Red Robin was helping Nightwing stand and walk out of the building.

Gordon made the call, then joined up with the vigilantes, “What happened?”

Red Robin addressed the Commissioner, “It was BCC, the bank robbery group. They brought twelve people. We were able to capture five before they started shooting. They used incendiary rounds. That’s why the chair started burning.”

“Did they steal anything before they got away,” Gordon asked.

“I don’t think so,” Red Robin said, “Once the fires are put out, you can get the bank manager to do an inventory.”

The Batmobile pulled up outside of the bank, and Batman and Robin jumped out of the vehicle.

“Where have you been, Batman,” Gordon asked.

“It’s a big city,” Batman growled, “How are you, Nightwing?”

Nightwing shook his head, “Still hurts, but no flare-ups.”

“Good,” Batman said, “Red Robin, get him in the car. Do you need us for anything, Jim?”

Gordon was just noticing Nightwing’s injury, “I think we’re good here. Take care of your injured.”

Batman turned to the car, but then turned back to Gordon, “Jim, it sounded like these people were using phosphorus rounds. Tell the fire department to be careful and thorough.”

“Will do,” Commissioner Gordon said before walking away.

Batman and Robin walked back to the Batmobile. Batman stopped before opening the canopy, “Robin, go with Red Robin.”

Robin’s jaw dropped, “What? Why? There’s more than enough room in the car.”

“I need you to bring Nightwing’s motorcycle home,” Batman said softly.

Red Robin walked up and placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder, “Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”

“Fine,” Robin grumbled as he walked away with his older brother.

Red Robin gave a small smile as the pair turned a corner, heading towards the Fifth-Third bank.

“He’ll be okay. You know that, right?”

“What are you talking about,” Robin grumbled.

Red Robin nudged Robin lightly, “It’s okay to be worried about him, but Batman won’t let anything happen to Nightwing. Before you deny it, I know you’re worried. We all are.”

Robin sighed as they approached Nightwing’s motorcycle. The machine was much too big for the compact teen, but Robin wasn’t going to admit that he might not be able to handle the bike.

Robin looked around, “Where’s yours?”

“The two of us were covering three banks,” Red Robin said, “Mine is a couple blocks away.”

“Did you want a ride,” Robin asked.

“Thank you,” Red Robin said, mounting the bike. Robin climbed up behind Red Robin as the older crime fighter rode off to find his own bike.

The pair of birds pulled up to Red Robin’s motorcycle, and the older man climbed off. Robin scooted forward, stretching to reach the controls. His feet didn’t touch the ground unless he leaned to the side.

Red Robin observed the youth, “Now, Robin…”

“I know how to ride a motorcycle, Red Robin,” Robin interrupted, “I have one of my own, remember?”

Red Robin smiled, “I was going to say, do you see that button at the top of the control panel? The one with your ‘R’ on it?”

“Yeah. What is it?”

“You’re going to want to press that before you get going,” Red Robin said.

“What is it,” Robin asked curiously.

“That’s Robin mode,” Red Robin said with a smile, “Nightwing foresaw a possible event, like now, where you would need to make use of his bike. That increases the gyro stabilization system, and raises the foot controls an inch.”

“When did he do that,” Robin asked.

“Well, actually, he’s had that built into all of his bikes over the years. He started when Hood was Robin. He did change out the label on the button to match your ‘R’, though.”

Robin pressed the button, and couldn’t quite hide his smile as the foot pegs rose to meet the soles of his boots.

Red Robin matched the small smile, “Let’s call it a night, Robin.”

_Back at the Bat Cave…_

The younger sidekicks parked their motorcycles in the cave after a quick return trip. Damian ripped his mask off, taking a layer of skin at his temples with it as he hurried over to the medical bay.

Bruce stopped the teen from entering the medical bay, “Hold it, kiddo. Alfred isn’t done with him yet.”

Damian looked up at his father, “What do you mean, he isn’t done yet?”

“We only got home a couple minutes before you did, son. Alfred said he doesn’t want anyone interrupting him until he’s done.”

“How long will that be,” Damian asked.

“When he’s done,” Bruce replied, then squeezed both of Damian’s shoulders, “He’ll be fine.”

“He better be,” Damian said softly, “I’ve seen what phosphorus can do to people.”

“You have,” Bruce asked, “When?”

Damian gave a small shudder, “Grandfather was always looking for new and interesting ways to torture his enemies. Watching someone burn from the inside out…well…”

Bruce nodded, “I get it.”

Damian sighed, and he and Bruce watched the closed door leading to the medical bay for several minutes.

By the time Alfred opened the door, Jason and Tim had joined Bruce and Damian in their silent vigil. “It could have been much worse, but Master Dick will make a full recovery.”

The collective sigh of relief could be heard by Dick, who was pulling on his pajamas. “I’ll be fine. This is nothing.”

“It is a little more than nothing, young sir,” Alfred said, “but you are right. You will be fine.”

Bruce, Jason, and Tim walked past Alfred, into the medical bay. Alfred looked down at Damian, who stood still, staring at the room.

“Master Damian?”

Damian seemed to snap out of a daze, “I think I’ll go take a shower, Alfred.”

“Very well, young sir,” the butler said as the youth walked away.

_Later…_

Damian waited until the family went to bed before sneaking out of his room and moving one door to his right. Damian had just barely cracked the door open when his plan started to go awry. Dick’s light was still on, which meant the man was still awake.

“Oh, good. Thanks for not keeping me waiting, Little D. Turn the light off before you come to bed.”

Giving up on stealth, Damian walked into the room and closed the door behind him. Sighing, Damian asked, “How did you know?”

Dick smiled, “When you weren’t the first one to rush into the medical bay after Alfred was done with me, I figured something was up. When I didn’t see you before bed at all, I figured I’d see you after bed.” Dick patted the bed beside him, “Come here, and don’t forget to turn off the light.”

Damian turned off the light and walked over to the bed. “Which side were you hit on?”

“My right,” Dick replied.

Damian rolled his eyes, “Then, why did you pat the bed on your right side? You touch where you want the person to go. Move over, so Alfred doesn’t get mad at me for laying on your injury.”

Damian shivered as he climbed into the space Dick cleared for him, “Why do you have a fan on? It’s January, and it just started snowing again. Isn’t it cold enough in here without the fan?”

Dick smiled as he pulled a thick quilt over the both of them. Damian felt his temperature rise a couple degrees as he snuggled under Dick’s arm.

Dick released a slow breath, “If it’s cold in here, you have an excuse for cuddling.”

Damian shook his head softly. _What exactly does he think I came in here for? Why would I need an excuse to carry out my original plan?_ “It’s…okay. I think…well, it’s okay.”

“I get it, Little Brother.”

“Why can I still not say these things to family,” Damian growled softly.

“You’ll get there,” Dick said, “You can do it, but not usually in situations like this. You’re still agitated and anxious, because I got hurt when you weren’t around. You can do it when you’re calmer. Let’s get you calmer.”

Damian reached out and unbuttoned one of the buttons on Dick’s pajama shirt. “What are you doing,” the older brother asked.

“I want to see it,” Damian said plainly, sitting up and unbuttoning another button.

_This will help him calm down and realize everything is going to be okay._ “There’s nothing to see, except a bandage,” Dick said, “Alfred did his usual good job.”

Damian pushed the shirt aside to reveal a large gauze covering his brother’s side. Damian inspected it closely in the dark without touching it. Finding no fault, Damian leaned back and buttoned the shirt again.

“Does everything meet with your approval, young sir?”

Damian rolled his eyes, “You’ve lived with Alfred for most of your life, and you still can’t do a decent impersonation of him? I could impersonate him perfectly after a week.”

Damian snuggled under Dick’s arm again, holding a little tighter this time, but consciously not touching the area where he knew the bandage was.

Dick replied, “I guess I’m not as talented as you, Little D.”

The room fell silent for a minute, until Damian asked in a small voice, “Are you going to be okay?”

Dick smiled as he squeezed his brother, “It’s such a small wound that Alfred won’t even let me stay home from work tomorrow. My biggest problem will be hiding the fact that I’m injured from Commissioner Gordon. I’m having dinner with Barbara and her parents tomorrow.”

Damian gave a small smile, “Don’t blow anything, like my knee surgery almost did.” Damian then looked down and mumbled, “Don’t scare us like this again.”

Dick kissed the top of Damian’s head, “I’ll try. I’ll also bring you a slice of cheesecake from the restaurant. Good night, Little Brother.”

_The Next Night…_

“You’re going to love this, Bruce,” Tim said from in front of the Bat Computer.

Bruce walked over and stared at the screen. “What am I looking at?”

“It seems the GCPD interrogated the bank robbers we captured last night and decided to gloat a little about our work.” Tim highlighted a Facebook post and said, “Whoever is in charge of the GCPD Facebook page posted a comment on BCC’s page. ‘How did that attempted robbery work out for you last night?’ To which someone from BCC replied, ‘It was a learning experience.’ And the GCPD responded, ‘Five of your members are learning what the inside of our jail cells are like.’”

Bruce shook his head, “At least there’s no mention of Dick getting hurt.”

Tim smiled, “No, but the public is calling them out, too. Look at this post. No idea who it’s from, but they ask, ‘Didn’t you guys say you were untouchable? That the Bats couldn’t get you?’”

“Did they reply to that one,” Bruce asked.

“No,” Tim replied.

“Any thoughts on where they might hit tonight?”

Tim shook his head, “No, but you have to believe they will change things up tonight. Last night was the closest BCC has ever come to being caught. They’ve got to be nervous.”

Bruce thought for a minute while stroking his chin, “Given everything you know about them, what is your best guess on their next move? You’re the closest thing we have to an expert on this group. If you were part of them, what would you do next?”

It was Tim’s turn to think. “It’s hard to tell, Bruce. Me being me, I’d lay low for a day or two before trying again.”

“These guys might see that as backing down from their boast,” Bruce said, “A loss of face, and respect.”

“Yeah,” Tim said.

“You said that last night was the closest they came to getting caught. What was the _second_ closest?”

Tim started typing, “Let me check.”

Tim searched through BCC’s file of crimes, looking for police reports. Ten minutes later, Tim leaned forward in his chair, “Here’s one. Their third job in Pennsylvania. Police arrived within three minutes of the alarm sounding. They had to shoot their way out of that heist, too. The next night, they hit the biggest bank in the city. They changed their tactics, too. They parked their van a block away, and hit the bank with fifteen people, the most they’ve ever used for a job.”

Bruce looked down at Tim, “What’s the biggest bank in Gotham City?”

Tim looked up, “The Federal Reserve.”

“What’s the biggest bank in Gotham City that BCC actually has a chance of robbing?”

“The Wells Fargo, at Fairweather and Payne!”

Bruce and Tim turned at the exclamation to see Damian running into the cave.

“Is that a guess, or something else,” Bruce asked.

Damian stopped next to the pair, “It’s not a guess. Alfred was bringing me home from school, and we saw a van matching the description of the one you reported last night, Tim. I had Alfred follow them for a bit. They pulled into the bank parking lot.”

“Could be nothing,” Tim said.

Damian stared at Tim, “They pulled into a spot away from the bank, but facing the front doors. The parking lot was empty, so they had a clear view of the bank. No one got out of the van. They sat and watched the bank for ten minutes, then drove off.”

“For all we know, they could have stopped to make a phone call, or eat a burger,” Bruce said, “Let’s not jump at speculation here.”

Tim was typing into the Bat Computer, “It might be a little more than speculation, Bruce. That branch is one of the busiest in town. Hell, even you have an account there.”

“Hmm,” Bruce hummed, “Are there traffic cameras in the area, so we can see Damian’s bit of spy work?”

Tim smiled, “Give me a minute.”

The screen popped up with a live feed of the bank, and Tim said, “They have new, high definition cameras. I like this. It makes it so much easier.”

Tim rewound the feed until they saw the van in question, with Alfred’s Mercedes parked a fair distance away. Bruce looked closely at the van. The front passenger could be seen staring at the bank through binoculars for several minutes, before they drove off.

“I take back my dismissal of your theory, Damian,” Bruce said, “They were definitely marking a target. Good catch.”

Bruce looked at his sons for a second, “We’re a man short tonight.”

“The Squirt is a man short every night,” Jason said, walking up to the group.

Tim had to lunge out of his chair to catch Damian, before he took a swing at Jason.

“Keep it up, Todd,” Damian grumbled, “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“As I was saying,” Bruce said loudly, “Dick won’t be with us tonight. I want all of you on your guard tonight. We’ll stake out the bank and take them down if they show up. Get dressed. Damian, hold on.”

Tim and Jason walked away to the locker room.

Damian looked up at his father, “Yes, Father?”

Bruce watched the locker room for a long second before smiling down at Damian, “I just didn’t want you attacking your brother in the locker room.”

“If he’d keep his mouth shut, we’d get along fine,” Damian grumbled.

“You _are _growing, Damian,” Bruce said, “Don’t let him bother you. You’re only fifteen. I bet, by the time you’re Jason’s age, you’ll be taller than me.”

“I don’t care if I’m taller than you,” Damian said, “I just need to be tall enough to shove his words down his throat.”

“You don’t actually make yourself taller by knocking others down,” Bruce said.

“Tell that to him,” Damian said, “He’s the one who always has to have some remark.”

“We’ll work this out later. Let’s get dressed and hit the streets.”

_Later…_

“This parking lot is awfully brightly lit,” Red Hood said, “What guarantee do we have that they’re actually coming here?”

“None,” Red Robin said, “It’s just the best guess we have right now.”

The four Bats sat on the Wells Fargo bank roof, staring out at their assigned directions. Four Bats on the roof of a four-sided building made coverage assignments easy. Everyone got a side, and no one was responsible for more than a quarter of the surveillance.

“Anyone see anything useful,” Batman asked, trying to get his boys focused again.

“No,” Red Hood said.

“Not yet,” Red Robin replied.

“J-just m-my b-b-breath,” Robin said.

The youngest crime fighter had curled himself up into the smallest ball he could, while still being able to see over the side of the roof. He’d worn his thicker cape, with the quilted lining, and had the lined hood covering his head.

He was still shivering in the sub-zero temperatures. Not even a third of his life spent in Gotham City had fully acclimated the desert dweller to colder climates.

“Robin,” Batman asked.

“I d-don’t l-like the c-cold,” Robin grumbled, “I never have.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Short Stuff,” Red Hood said, “When I was your age, I was doing these winter stakeouts in shorts.”

“At least it isn’t snowing tonight,” Red Robin said quickly, to keep Robin from overreacting to the jab.

“Of course not,” Robin said, “If it was snowing, then there would be a reason for it to be this cold. Without snow, it’s just this cold to piss me off.”

Red Hood could barely keep himself from laughing, “Yes, the weather changes precisely to annoy you.”

“Keep it up, Todd,” Damian grumbled. He spoke mostly to himself, but knew it could be heard over the open radio link, “Beating the hell out of you is very high up on my list of ways to warm up.”

“You want to warm up, I think you’re about to get your chance,” Batman said, “I’ve got four bogeys approaching the bank.”

Red Robin looked over at the parking lot on his side of the building, “I’ve got three on this side.”

“I’ve got three over here, too,” Red Hood said.

“I see two on this side,” Robin said.

“Twelve in total, then,” Batman asked.

“Yeah,” Red Robin said, “These guys are strapped. I’ve got three with rifles.”

“All mine have rifles, too,” Red Hood said.

“Same here,” Batman said.

“A third guy just showed up over here,” Robin said, “I’ve got two with rifles and one with a power saw. They must be coming through the wall over here.”

“Does anyone see a van,” Batman asked.

“No,” both of the Reds said at the same time.

“No,” Robin said, “but it’s got to be over here, somewhere, if this is where they’re bringing the saw. It looks pretty bulky. He probably hasn’t carried it too far.”

Batman appeared at Robin’s side, “You’re probably right. He’s struggling carrying that saw.”

“How do we want to do this,” Red Hood asked, appearing on Batman’s other side.

Batman thought for a second, “Let them get set up. Let’s see how they deploy. Once they start cutting into the wall, we’ll use the noise as a distraction and take them down.”

Batman and his sidekicks watched as the gunmen ringed the building as they set up a perimeter, pointing out, away from the bank.

Batman almost smiled, “They’re looking for opposition coming from outside of the bank. We can drop in behind them and use the cover of the noise to reduce their numbers.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Red Robin said.

“Back to your original walls,” Batman said, “Once they start cutting into the wall, we go. Robin, make sure that guy with the saw doesn’t make it into the bank.”

“Got it,” Robin said, watching the ground. “Get ready, it looks like he’s getting ready to…”

The rest of Robin’s statement was drowned out by the gas-powered concrete saw coughing into life.

As soon as it started, the noise stopped, and shouts of, “They’re here! The Bats are on the roof!” echoed throughout the parking lot.

Batman, Red Robin, and Robin, who were all still kneeling, looked over at Red Hood, who was standing frozen, surprised at being spotted.

“Go,” Batman called out, while a shout of “Scatter” sounded from the ground.

“That came from the man with the saw,” Robin called out as he jumped from the rooftop, “He must be the leader.”

“Don’t let him escape, Robin,” Batman said, “All of you, take them all down. This ends tonight.”

The vigilantes hit the ground, and the robbers, hard, and they found two different philosophies being carried out in this fight. Batman, Red Hood, and Red Robin found enforcers with rifles who, even though they had been told to scatter, were more than happy to stand and fight. Robin, on the other hand, found himself in a foot chase. He was absolutely correct in his estimation. The man who had dropped the saw to flee was indeed the leader of BCC, and his two guards were going to protect him while he made his escape.

Robin caught up with the first guard at the end of the parking lot. The spry youth was much faster than the older criminal, and a full jump kick to the man’s shoulder altered the man’s path enough to send him crashing and flipping over a bus bench, to land hard on the pavement. The thwarted criminal didn’t get up, and Robin ran across the street, in pursuit of his two fleeing targets.

“Robin, where are you going,” Batman asked over the radio.

“You said don’t let them get away,” Robin puffed out as the frigid night air burned in his lungs, “It looks like they’re headed for Square Park.”

“Red Robin, go after them,” Batman ordered.

“I’m on my way,” Red said, “Keep us updated on locations.”

“I think I can catch them before…OH SHIT!”

“ROBIN,” Batman yelled.

“I’m okay,” Robin said quickly, “It’s icy over here. I slipped. Still on them. They’re heading into Square Park.”

Square Park was Gotham City’s answer to Central Park in New York, but much smaller. It was literally a square parcel of land in the southern Financial District, which had been set aside as a place to make the city look less city-like. In the past, it had been a site of homeless encampments and drug deals. Since the urban renewal project several years earlier, the park had been cleaned up, and was now a spot where families could be found more often than criminals.

Tonight, however, was the recent exception.

The two BCC robbers were sprinting through a greenbelt, heading for their van, which they had parked on an access road.

“Heading east through the park,” Robin said into his radio, “Their van is parked at the end of the park.”

“I’m right behind you, Robin,” Red Robin called.

“How far,” Robin asked.

“Just entering the park now.”

“Hurry up,” Robin said as he slipped again. His boot had met with a frozen patch of grass, and Robin ended up sliding on his stomach for a couple feet. “Stupid ice. I _hate_ winter.”

Robin picked himself up and ran as hard as he could. The fleeing robbers were pulling away from the youthful vigilante, and were approaching their van. Robin was watching the grass in front of him more than the robbers, trying to stay in their footprints. They hadn’t fallen, and if he stepped where they did, Robin wouldn’t fall again, either.

“ROBIN! GET DOWN!”

_Present Day…_

Damian took a shuddering breath as he paused in his story. His team were all unconsciously leaning forward, waiting for the rest of the tale. If they had been sitting, they would all be on the edge of their seat.

“Well? What happened, Dude,” Beast Boy asked.

Damian took another breath and looked down, “I was watching where I was going, not who I was chasing. They got to their van, and while one of them was starting the engine, the other was lining up a shot with his rifle. I wasn’t close enough to try to disarm him, and Red Robin was even farther away. I hit another patch of ice, and landed on my face at the same time as the guy fired. He only took one shot, but it was enough.”

“What do you mean,” Mercury asked nervously.

Speedy was looking at Damian carefully, “You don’t look like you got shot.”

“I didn’t,” Damian said in a husky voice.

“What happened,” Superboy asked meekly.

Damian took another shaky breath, “I looked up, to see why the guy only shot once. I was hoping his gun had jammed, and I could rush him, or something. He had this weird look on his face, like…like this was the last thing he wanted to see. He jumped in the van, and they drove off.”

“Wait, so…they got away,” Beast Boy asked.

Damian shook his head, “No. Well, yes, but Batman caught them the next night. They were the last two members of BCC that were still on the loose.”

“What didn’t that guy want to see,” Impulse asked hesitantly.

Damian’s jaw was quaking as he said, “The source of the screaming.”

“Who was screaming,” Mercury asked, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Damian wiped at his eyes, which had started leaking at the memory, “We were running through a public park. Behind us, about a hundred yards back, there was…a family, out for a late night walk. It was, uh, parents, and their…their daughter. When I looked back, they…”

Damian’s voice hitched to a stop, and it took a lot of willpower to force the words out of his mouth, “The screaming was coming from the father. He was…he was…he was holding his daughter, who had been shot…killed. Killed by a bullet that…that was meant for…for me.”

Damian nearly collapsed as he dissolved into tears again. Only an uncharacteristically fatherly gesture from Batman kept the sobbing youth on his feet, as Batman pulled his son into a tender embrace. If the other youths weren’t as shocked as they were by Damian’s story, the hug would have been much more shocking to them.

“Why the hell were they there,” Damian asked, his voice slightly muffled by Batman’s chest, “It was the middle of the night. It was freezing out. There are no residential areas in that part of town. Why…did they do that? She…she was only four years old.”

The youths all gasped as Damian revealed the age of the child, which he had found out about from news coverage the day after the shooting. Speedy and Impulse were crying along with Damian, holding on to each other. The boys were too shocked to know what to do.

Damian seemed to calm a bit. He stood a little straighter, but didn’t look back at his team. “I’ve seen many people die. I’ve killed many people. I’ve seen many people get killed, of all ages. I’ve had more people try to kill me than I can count. But this…this was the first time that…that someone died in my place. That bullet was meant for me, and now a young family is destroyed. I’ve…I’ve been having…a really hard time coming to terms with this. Getting over this. I’m not over this, and…it’s effecting…things. I can’t sleep without seeing the whole thing play over in my nightmares. I can’t concentrate. My mind keeps coming back to what happened. I don’t know how to handle this. I’m not getting better.”

Damian took a couple deep breaths, then slowly turned to look at his friends, “This has, kinda, taken over my mind. I…I need a break. A time away, to come to terms with…all this. I dropped my classes for this semester, but that still isn’t enough right now. I…I’m done. I think I’m done.”

Superboy grew visibly nervous at the tone in his friend’s voice, “What do you mean, you’re done?”

“I’m…” Damian shook his head, “I need to clear my head, and I can’t do that while being the cause of death for that little girl. Robin is…was…I can’t do this anymore. I swore, when I became Robin, that I wouldn’t be responsible for anymore bodies. Well, there is no one else to blame for what happened. I didn’t do my job, and someone else paid the price. I’m…I’m not Robin anymore.”

The new gasp from the youths was far more pronounced than the last one. Superboy shot a glare at Superman and Batman, “Dad, did you two _fire_ Robin?”

“They had nothing to do with this decision,” Damian said, “It was all mine. I need time, and I can’t take that time as Robin.”

“Are you…are you coming back,” Mercury asked shakily.

Damian met his teammate’s eyes for a second before looking away, “I don’t know.”

Black Canary walked into the room as Batman placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder and said softly, “Let’s go, son. Superman, Black Canary, they’re all yours.”

Batman and Damian left the room silently. Impulse moved to follow them, but Superman blocked the path to the door. “Let them go, for now. There are some things you all need to know. Like Damian said, this incident happened over a week ago. This decision has been a long time coming. It wasn’t an easy one for Damian to make. Please, respect his wishes for now, and let him work through this. I will ask all of you not to reach out to him. Let him make the first moves, when he’s ready.”

Superman gestured to Black Canary, who took a step forward, “Kids, this is Black Canary. Her real name is Dinah Lance. Among her many talents, Dinah is a certified counselor. She’s been helping Damian, and if any of you want to talk to someone, or have a problem that you don’t know how to handle, Dinah is here for you. Dinah?”

The woman nodded, “Hi, everyone. This isn’t really how I wanted to meet all of you. The work we do is hard. The hero work, I mean. When your team starts taking real missions, you’re going to come across things and situations that you can’t understand. I was going to offer my services to the team closer to that time, but now seems like a good time to make the offer. To make this offer a bit less scary for all of you, I was given permission to tell you this fact. Damian has been my patient for nearly two years. He’s made great leaps forward in that time. He had a lot that he needed to talk about, and it’s made him a better person for it.”

Impulse looked shocked at the news. “Damian accepted counseling? _Our_ Damian?”

Dinah nodded, “He didn’t just accept it, he asked for it. None of you are being ordered to do anything. We’re just letting you all know that this is here for you, if you want it. And, just so you know, if you do want to talk, I won’t tell anyone what is said between us. Not even your parents.”

Impulse looked around at the other kids. They all wore matching shocked looks at the news. Except for Superboy.

“Why is this news not as shocking to you as it is to the rest of us, Superboy?”

Superboy blushed at being called out, “I, um, already knew that Damian was in therapy. He asked me not to say anything.”

“He just _told_ you something like that,” Mercury asked.

Superboy shook his head, “While the League was hunting Pure Earth last summer, I stayed with Damian for a week while my parents were out of town. One night, while I was there, he was scheduled for a therapy session. Damian only told me because he needed to go take care of it, and didn’t want to lie to me. He may be secretive about himself around us, but he doesn’t lie when answering questions.”

“What’s going to happen to the team now,” Beast Boy asked. “If he’s not Robin anymore, who’s going to teach us?”

“We’ll figure that out,” Superman said, “This team is not going to just end. We’ll find you a replacement teacher to fill in for Damian.”

“A superhero substitute,” Speedy asked.

Superman couldn’t help but give a small grin, “Something like that.”

Dinah handed out cards to all of the youths, “This is my number. Like I said, if you want to talk, I’m available.”

Superman nodded, “We’re going to end here for the night. All of your parents have been notified of what’s going on. Even yours, Beast Boy. They’ll be here to pick you up in a few minutes. Beast Boy, Cyborg is coming for you. Your mother is at Titan’s Tower, waiting for you.”

Impulse looked around, “So, we won’t see Robin, I mean, Damian, again?”

Superman looked down, “That hasn’t been decided yet.”

The girl speedster couldn’t accept that answer, and was determined to get a better one from the source. She sped out of the Mount Justice training room, and headed for the Zeta Tube.

“Where you headed?”

Impulse stopped just outside of the Communications Room of Mount Justice, which also held the Zeta Tube, as her father ran next to her.

“I have to see if there’s anything I can do,” Impulse said.

Flash shook his head sadly, “Dick said he’d call if there was anything we could do. Right now, he just needs time, and space.”

“I can at least give him a hug, and let him know that we’re here for him,” Impulse said as she resumed her course for the Zeta Tubes.

The girl came to a stop in the middle of the room, feeling lost. Except for herself, and her slowly approaching father, the room was empty.

Robin was gone.

**A/N: I really wish I’d written this one a year ago, when I first had the idea for this story. I had so many better ideas, which didn’t make it into my outline. I think, from now on, when I get an idea for a story, I’m just going to write it, instead of waiting to write it in timeline order.**

**Anyway, there are two more chapters to this tale, which will be posted within minutes of this chapter. I wanted to post this story in its entirety, since this chapter is pretty big and important to my timeline as a whole. I wanted to get the whole thing out at once.**

**Not that this will make too much sense by the time this is posted, but chapter two is already done, and chapter three is in the works. **

**I’m realizing that my 2019 stories are all pretty dark and angsty. That’s just how my timeline worked out. **

**I’d love to know what you think of all this. Comments give me the ideas I need for future stories, and the belief that I’m not just wasting my time writing these stories.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	2. Intermission

Break

Chapter 2: Intermission

“Hello?”

“Hello, Jon.”

A nervously relieved sigh escaped the younger boy’s mouth. He wasn’t sure Damian would answer the phone, but he had to try.

It had been almost a month since Damian’s Robin hiatus began, and he hadn’t spoken to anyone from his team in that time. Damian really hadn’t done much of anything in that time. He had therapy with Dinah five times a week. He got a set of chores from Alfred daily, to keep his mind busy, and because the butler wouldn’t let Damian sit in his room all day and brood.

Damian mostly just kept to himself, now that his days were open.

“Um…how…how are you, Damian?”

_I’ve been asking myself that question more in the past month than at any other time in my life._ “I’m…better than I was. It’s…something.”

“Oh,” Jon said, “That’s…that’s good.”

“Jon, why do you sound so nervous,” Damian asked softly.

“Because I am,” the boy said, “We haven’t seen or heard from you in months. We miss you.”

Damian gave a small smile, “Jon, it’s been less than a month. Anyway, we made sure the team is covered. Dick and Tim tell me they are impressed with the team’s progress.”

Jon sighed, “Yeah, but it’s not the same. A piece of our team is missing.”

Damian sighed, “I miss you guys, too.”

Jon gasped lightly, then asked, “Really? Are…are you going to come back soon?”

“I-I’m going to come back,” Damian said, “I don’t know about soon, but I will be back…one day.”

“Oh,” Jon said dejectedly, “Are you at least going to come for my birthday party next weekend?”

“I don’t know yet, Jon,” Damian said, “Why are you doing your party two weeks after your birthday?”

“Mom was on a book tour on my actual birthday,” Jon said sadly, “This was the first one of my birthdays that she’s ever missed. Mom gets home tomorrow, so we’ll do the party next weekend. I…I’d really like you to be there.”

“The party sounds like fun, Jon, but you know how I’d have to get there,” Damian said, “I’d have to take the Zeta Tube. I…I haven’t been able to even go to that part of the house since everything happened. I can’t even walk past it without shaking, and breaking out in a cold sweat. I’m…I’m still scared, Jon.”

“But, why,” Jon asked, “Nothing that happened happened in your house.”

“I know,” Damian said, trying to find a way to explain it to his friend and himself at the same time, “It’s more about what it means. What it stands for. Knowing that it can happen again. I don’t want to be responsible for that.”

“You’re not responsible for what happened, though,” Jon said, “You couldn’t have stopped it. You know no one blames you, right?”

“I blame me, Jon,” Damian said softly, “There’s more I could have done.”

“There’s always more we could have done,” Jon said, “You taught us that. Even if everything went right, there’s still more to be done. Haven’t you punished yourself enough?”

Jon froze. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Fortunately, the comment didn’t make Damian mad. It made him think.

_Have I,_ Damian thought to himself. _Have I punished myself enough? I’m the only one who is punishing me. Maybe there is a reason for that._

The line was silent for a minute before Damian asked, “How is the team doing? How are they handling everything?”

_I guess he’s not ready to talk,_ Jon thought. _Dad did say it would take time. I didn’t think it would be this long, though._ “They’re doing okay. Gar started seeing Dinah. We all talked to her. He said he had more stuff to work out, though. Dick and Tim are good, but like I said, training just hasn’t been the same.”

Damian released a breath through his nose, “I see. I’ll…I’ll be back…eventually. Thanks, you know, for understanding.”

_And that’s it, then. He really doesn’t know if he’ll be Robin again. I had to try._ “Right, D. Take care of yourself. Call us, sometime.”

_I hate when he sounds depressed like that,_ Damian thought. “I will. Bye, Jon.”

Damian dropped his phone on his bed and flopped back. Staring at the ceiling, Damian thought to himself, _What am I really doing? Who am I punishing here? Robin pretty much asked me the same question when we talked yesterday. Is this really what I want for myself? There are steps I need to take. Dinah keeps telling me that. She’s never said what those steps are, though. Is this one of those things I have to figure out on my own? I really rely on others too much these days. The old me would have been over this by now. I don’t know if this is progress or not. No one can argue that I’m not a better person now than I was five years ago. Back then, I would have been the person firing the rifle, instead of the one mourning the victim. A victim I never met. A complete stranger. A four-year old girl. Sad, yes, but who’s to say some other tragedy wouldn’t have befallen her, that no one could have predicted? In any other situation, Father and I might be investigating her death. Would it affect me as much, if we were brought in after the fact? No, it probably wouldn’t. This hit me as hard as it did because that bullet was meant for me. There’s no denying that._

Damian rolled over and laid on his stomach. Staring ahead, he saw his desk, with a corkboard hung on the wall behind it. On the corkboard, in the lower right corner, Damian had pinned a newspaper clipping, the news story of the little girl’s death. Sighing, Damian stood and trudged over to his desk. Even thought he had memorized every word of the short article, he read it again. Like always, the line ‘collateral damage from a chase involving Batman’s sidekick, Robin,’ tried to rip open his heart. That one line more than anything had cemented the seed of guilt and failure in the teen.

Today, however, the dagger of guilt was accompanied by a new feeling. It wasn’t quite anger, but it was close.

_I didn’t cause that girl’s death, _Damian thought. _The guy who took a shot at me killed her. What does this reporter know? How many more deaths would there have been if I hadn’t been chasing those guys, or if the police were chasing them? I’d like to see the reporter do a better job than I did._

This was the first time thoughts like these had crossed Damian’s mind since the shooting, and they caused a subtle shift in Damian’s mood. He wasn’t even aware of it, and wouldn’t be for several hours. With a shaky hand, Damian reached up and pulled the article off of his corkboard. Slowly, he crumpled it in his hand, until it was a small ball of newsprint. He stared at if for just short of a minute before looking up again. At eye level, he had pinned a picture of him and Robin, hugging this past Christmas under the mistletoe.

_That little girl will never have another Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I have to cancel the rest of my life. It’s sad, but…maybe it’s time to move on. How do I do that?_

Damian dropped the balled up article into the trash can next to his desk, grabbed his phone from his bed, and walked out of his bedroom. Damian didn’t know where he was going, but he knew his answers weren’t to be found in his bedroom.

_Meanwhile…_

“Good afternoon. Wayne Residence.”

“Hi, Alfred. It’s me.”

Alfred smiled, “Good afternoon, Master Bruce. What may I do for you?”

Bruce took a breath, “I’m just calling to let you know I’m going to be late tonight. So are Dick and Tim, for that matter. Our meeting is going to run late.”

“Do you know how late, sir,” Alfred asked.

“No,” Bruce said, shaking his head, “but you might just want to plan dinner for yourself, Jason, and Damian.”

“Actually, sir, Master Jason has a date tonight.”

“Oh,” Bruce said.

“Your meeting sounds like a serious one, Master Bruce,” Alfred said.

“Yes,” Bruce agreed, “but a good one. We had a good quarter at the end of last year. I want to keep that going. People actually have ideas this time, on how to keep growing. I want us to explore everything, while the ideas are still fresh.”

Alfred nodded, “Very good, sir. I shall make the proper arrangements.”

“How is it going there today,” Bruce asked.

Alfred hid his sigh, “Quiet, as usual, but, perhaps, a little better.”

That piqued Bruce’s interest, “Did something happen?”

“I overheard Master Damian on the phone a while ago. He sounded…somewhat improved.

“Talking to Robin, probably,” Bruce said, “She has that power over him.”

“I believe it was Master Jonathan, actually,” Alfred said.

Bruce’s eyes widened a bit, “Is that so? Clark told me he told Jon not to call. To give Damian his space, and let him make the first moves. I wonder what changed.”

“I don’t know, sir,” Alfred said, “I have not seen Master Damian since I walked past his room earlier. Perhaps I should see if he is interested in a snack?”

Bruce thought for a second, “Let me know if anything changes. Text me. I’ll be in my meeting. Oh, Dinah is coming over tonight. Make sure to remind Damian of that.”

“Of course, sir,” Alfred said before hanging up the phone.

Alfred walked to the refrigerator to pull out some fruit for the boy, then stopped and thought, _the young master’s appetite has not been the same since the incident. Perhaps I should ask before pulling something out, so I don’t have to bring it back. The stairs have not been friendly to my old knees lately._

Alfred climbed the grand staircase, noticing that the residence wing was quiet again. Damian’s bedroom door stood open, a somewhat unusual occurrence from the normally meticulous child. Alfred stopped at the door and glanced into the room. He was surprised to find it empty.

The butler walked slowly into the room, taking in the space. _Where could he have gone? Master Damian hasn’t willingly left his room for two weeks, except for meal times. Nothing looks disturbed. The bed is a little rumpled, but that is no surprise. The bathroom is empty. The closet is devoid of life. The window is closed. Perhaps he has sought comfort in his father’s or brother’s rooms?_

Alfred headed for the door, to continue his search, but stopped next to the teen’s desk. A balled up piece of paper in the trash can caught Alfred’s eye, mostly because the butler had emptied the bedroom trash cans that morning. He unfolded the news article, and was surprised at what he held in his hands.

Alfred put the article back in the wastepaper bin, where he thought it belonged all along, and dialed Bruce on his cell phone.

“We’re just about to start our meeting, Alfred. What’s up?”

“I’m not sure, sir,” the butler replied, “Master Damian is not in his room.”

“He’s gone,” Bruce asked in surprise.

“It’s probably not a cause for concern, sir. This is a large house, and Master Damian has carved out several spots of his own. Just because he isn’t in this one does not constitute an emergency.”

“Then, why did you call,” Bruce asked.

“It’s something I found in Master Damian’s room, sir.”

“Is it a note,” Bruce asked.

Alfred thought for a second, “Of a kind, Master Bruce. The news article, the one we begged him not to post in his room. Master Damian has taken it down and thrown it away.”

Bruce’s eyes widened, “He did? That’s great.”

“I found it crumpled up in his trash can, Master Bruce.”

“Now, if you could just find him,” Bruce said.

“I shall start a search immediately, and send you a text message when I find him,” Alfred replied.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said, “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

_Meanwhile…_

Damian pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket. He was slightly amused that he was getting a second call today. This was only the second call he had received in three weeks. He had asked Robin to allow him to reach out for their contacts. She had agreed.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Damian. This is Dinah.”

“Hello, Dinah,” the teen said.

“Listen, I have some other plans tonight. I was wondering if we could meet earlier.”

Damian thought for a second, “That’s agreeable. How early were you thinking?”

“The earlier, the better, actually,” Dinah said.

Damian nodded, “My schedule is clear. You can come now, if you want.”

Dinah sounded happy at the statement, “Really? Great. Thank you for being accommodating, Damian. I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

Dinah always felt a little on edge when she entered the Batcave. It didn’t matter if she beamed in through the Zeta Tube or walked down the stairs from the house, it always felt like entering somewhere forbidden. It felt even more forbidden on days like today, when she knew no one would be in the cave, and she had to enter alone. Bruce had assured her it was completely safe, and had given her security clearance to be alone in the cave, but it didn’t stop her uneasy feelings.

Today’s feeling upon entering the cave wasn’t trepidation, but surprise. As it was the middle of the afternoon, and her patient currently refused to even approach the cave, Dinah had prepared herself for the long walk from the Zeta Tube to Damian’s bedroom.

Dinah caught movement out of the corner of her eye and stopped short. She turned and saw Damian sitting in the high-backed computer chair, swinging back and forth slowly as he watched the woman approach.

She had a bit of difficulty speaking with a sagging jaw at the surprise, but she managed it. “Damian, I would have come to you. You didn’t have to come down here.”

Damian shrugged, “I was already down here when you called. I figured I’d wait for you.”

“You were down here,” Dinah asked in shock, “Damian, you haven’t been in the Cave in weeks. What’s going on?”

Damian took a breath and motioned to a chair. Dinah sat down as Damian started talking. “I got a call today, and it made me think.”

“Your girlfriend,” Dinah asked.

Damian shook his head, “Jon, actually. He wanted to see how I was doing. It made me ask myself, how am I really doing? What am I really doing? Why am I punishing myself? I couldn’t come up with answers for those questions. I’m not sure I _want_ to come up with answers to those questions, either.”

That confused Dinah, “Why not?”

Damian looked down, “I want to get to a point where I don’t _need_ to answer those questions, and where no one needs to ask them of me.” Damian sighed and looked up again, “You know, I haven’t looked in a mirror in three weeks. I didn’t like what I would see. I looked in a mirror today. For the first time since the shooting, I was okay with what…with _who_ looked back at me.”

Dinah smiled at the statement, “I can tell you looked in a mirror. You shaved and combed your hair. You were getting a little overgrown yesterday. What were you feeling when you did that?”

“Anger,” Damian said, surprising the woman.

“Why,” Dinah asked.

Damian looked apprehensive as he started his explanation, “I…I read that article again today, after talking to Jon.”

“The one that Bruce and I begged you to forget about, and to not hang up in your room?”

Damian nodded slightly, “Yeah, that one. It made me mad.” Damian leaned forward slightly, and his voice rose a bit, “I did everything I could, and that author blamed _me _for the girl’s death.”

Dinah gave a large smile, ignoring the teen’s flashing eyes and near-snarl. “Damian, did you hear what you just said?”

“What?”

“You admitted that you did everything in your power, and you couldn’t change the outcome of the events,” Dinah said, “This was not your fault. Do you finally believe it?”

“I…” 

Damian’s eyes widened and he sat up a bit straighter. _It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. I did what I could, and it wasn’t enough, but it’s nothing I caused to happen. I did everything I could to stop it. It’s not my fault._

“It’s not my fault,” Damian said softly.

Dinah leaned forward and grabbed Damian’s hands, “No, honey. It’s not your fault. It never was.”

Damian leaned back in the chair, thinking about his new frame of mind. He felt lighter than he had since that cold January night.

After a minute of introspective silence, Damian looked up and asked, “You said there were steps I need to take to get better. What are they? Can you tell me now?”

“You just took the biggest step,” Dinah said, “You had to stop blaming yourself, before you could start to get better. Step two, I want you to get rid of that newspaper clipping.”

Damian nodded slowly, “What’s step three? I already did step two earlier.”

“Excellent,” Dinah said, smiling, “Step three is to not rush things. You’ve made major advancements today. I’d say, more than in the last month combined. For step four, all I want you to do is look in the mirror tomorrow morning. If you can do that, and only see Damian Wayne looking back at you, you’ll be on the road to getting better.”

Damian cocked his head to the side and stared at Dinah strangely, “Who else would look back at me from my own reflection? I’m depressed, not psychotic. It’s always been me looking back. That’s been the problem. It’s not that I didn’t recognize me; it’s that I didn’t like me.”

Dinah nodded, “Well, if you can look in the mirror without wanting to punch your reflection, I’d call that an improvement.”

“I guess so,” Damian said, then asked, “Did I do a good job of explaining everything that happened today? Father is going to ask what happened to change everything, and I don’t know how well I explained it.”

Dinah nodded, “You got the point across, unless there’s more that you didn’t tell me.”

“There’s a little more,” Damian said.

“Do you want to talk about it,” Dinah asked.

Damian shrugged, “When I was talking to Jon, he kept saying he missed me, and the team was different without me. I don’t want to disappoint him, or them, but at the same time, I…I liked hearing that people are thinking about me. Robin said pretty much the same thing to me last night. I don’t want to disappoint her, either.”

“Why do you think you’re disappointing people?”

Damian looked down, “Because I’m better than this. I can be better than this. I don’t like disappointing people.”

The cave was silent for a minute before Dinah asked, “Why did Jon’s words specifically mean so much to you? I get why Robin’s words meant something to you, but why did hearing them from Jon mean something different?”

“I don’t know,” Damian said softly, “I guess…because Jon means something to me. I like him. He’s my friend. Hearing the same thing from Robin is different. We’re in love; we’re expected to support each other. Wow, that makes the whole thing sound crass and fake. It’s not. Robin means the world to me. I wouldn’t be where I am now without her. But, with Jon…it’s different. Being around him lets me experience things I was denied when growing up.”

“Could it be that you want to be around Jon because, not only were you denied certain experiences through how you were raised, but you were denied a chance to grow up?”

Damian sniffled trying to process this new thought, “Jon just turned twelve, and he’s innocent. By the time I was twelve…well, we’ve spent months talking about that. Jon and I have come to rely on each other. It’s different from how I rely on Robin, but really, not that much.”

“So, Jon is a kid,” Dinah said, “and through that, you get to experience what it’s like to be a kid.”

Damian slowly nodded, “That’s part of it, but there’s more.”

“Like what,” Dinah asked.

Damian took a breath, “After the Pure Earth incident, Jon was having a hard time coming to terms with everything that happened. He asked me how I was dealing with everything as a prelude to talking about his own feelings. Then, he asked me who I was able to talk to about everything. Jon wished he had more people to talk to about his problems, specifically a brother, since I told him I had spent a lot of time talking to my brothers. It felt right, and I haven’t regretted it. I told Jon he could consider me his brother. We’re as close as I am with any of my other brothers. It’s been…mutually beneficial.”

Dinah sat back and stared at her patient for a second, “I see. I get it now. I’m surprised you don’t see this for yourself. Robin means the world to you, because you trust her, and love her, and are counting the days until you two officially become a family. In the meantime, you chose on your own to add a brother to your family, because you trust Jon, and in a way, obviously not the same way as Robin, you love him.”

Damian leaned back while he thought about this. “I…I…suppose that’s…accurate.”

“You said it yourself. You and Jon are as close as you are to any of your other brothers. You also told me, in the past, when talking about seeing the therapy process through, that your word is your bond. You gave your word to Jon, that you two would be brothers. Damian Wayne is not about to go back on his word. I don’t think you considered how seriously, how deeply, you would feel that bond, though. I think, if anyone else on your team had called you and told you the things that Robin and Jon told you, you wouldn’t have taken them as seriously as you have, hearing them from people you trust as deeply as you trust Robin and Jon.”

Damian considered the thought for several minutes. He finally looked up, to see Dinah smiling at him. She almost looked proud, if Damian had to judge her expression, and he called her on it, “What?”

“I’m wondering just how much you really need my services anymore. You keep finding ways to improve yourself on your own. You’ve built your own support network, and actually seek out their company and assistance.”

_What is she talking about? Is she ending this session, or all of my sessions? _“Don’t forget,” Damian said, “You’re a big part of that support network.”

“And I will always be here for you,” Dinah said, reassuring Damian, “but I think you’re ready to fly on your own again. At least, you’re ready to fly a lot farther than you were yesterday.”

Damian nodded slowly, then looked down and softly voiced his concern, “What if I’m not?”

“Then you’re not,” Dinah said, “but at least you’re thinking about giving it a try. You wouldn’t ask about consequences like that if you didn’t think trying was possible at this point.”

Damian glanced up slightly, and Dinah could tell that she had said the right thing, “What if…we didn’t meet tomorrow? As a test?”

Dinah nodded slowly, “How about this. Why don’t you give me a call the next time you want to talk.”

“Flying without a net,” Damian asked nervously.

“I think you’re ready,” Dinah said, “Anyway, it’s not flying without a net. The net is always there for you. It’s just going to be there when you need it. I think you really want to get back to your life, you just need the right nudge. I’m continuing the nudge that Robin and Jon gave you. We all want you to get back to what you want, which is your normal life. What do you think?”

“Can we talk on Thursday,” Damian asked, “Just to check in?”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Dinah said, “Call me, and we can set up a time to meet, or we can talk over the phone, if you think that will be all you need.”

“O-okay,” Damian said uncertainly.

“It’s okay to be nervous, Damian,” Dinah said quickly, “You’re taking some big steps here. If you start taking the steps and you find out that you’re not actually ready for them, that’s okay. Just tell someone, and we’ll adjust what we’re doing. No one expects you to get over everything in a day. We can adjust your speed as needed.”

Damian smiled, “That’s how Robin and I started. Fast, slow, fast, slow. Whatever we needed.”

“Then you already know how this works,” Dinah said with a smile. “Now, this is important. You’re taking big steps, and I’m proud of you for making it this far, and making it back into the cave, but I don’t want you patrolling yet. You seem to be doing fine down here right now, but we don’t know how you’ll feel the next time you see the cave. Move at your own speed, but don’t do that until you’re really ready. This isn’t a physical wound you’re healing from here. We won’t know what your triggers are until they hit. You have to be ready to handle them when they hit, and frankly, even with today’s amazing progress, you aren’t there yet.”

Damian nodded, “I think I know one of them. I…I haven’t been able to look at my uniform. I can’t even go near the locker room. Just being down here is enough of a start for today.”

“Good,” Dinah said, then smiled, “How are you feeling?”

Damian thought for a second, then gave a short nod, “I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Dinah said, “So, what’s next?”

Damian took a deep breath, “I have some people to talk to, and you said you have another appointment. If you need to go, I think I’ll be alright, now.”

Dinah stood, “I’m just a phone call away, if you need me. I’ll talk to you Thursday.”

Damian stood, and Dinah gave him a hug, “I’m proud of you, Damian. Keep up the good work.”

Damian was surprised by the hug, but he returned it lightly, “Thank you for your time and patience.”

Dinah headed for the Zeta Tube, with Damian following, “That’s what I’m here for. Oh, by the way, how is Dick’s wound?”

Damian snorted, “He’s fine. He still says the area feels hot to him, but I think he’s just milking it for attention. I mean, it was just a little phosphorus, and Alfred has assured all of us that he got it all out. I mean, come on, it’s not like he was set on fire.”

“Take care, Damian,” Dinah said before stepping through the Zeta Tube.

_Later…_

Bruce yawned as he handed his suit jacket to Alfred. “You didn’t text me earlier, Alfred.”

“I didn’t find Master Damian until he showed up for dinner,” the butler replied.

Bruce cocked his head, “Did he say where he was?”

“I think I’ll let him explain it to you, sir,” Alfred said, “You won’t believe it. You simply won’t believe it.”

Bruce cringed, “That good, or that bad?”

“Again, I will let Master Damian explain it.”

“Is he up in his room,” Bruce asked, “Dinah should be here soon, if she isn’t here already.”

“Miss Lance has been and gone already,” Alfred said, “Master Damian said she asked to come early, due to a conflicting engagement. She left before dinner.”

“Did she say anything about how he’s doing,” Bruce asked.

Alfred shook his head, “I did not see her, Master Bruce. Anyway, you know she promised Master Damian she wouldn’t discuss his sessions behind his back.”

“You didn’t see her,” Bruce asked, confused, “That’s not like Dinah, to not say hello.”

“Speak with your son, sir,” Alfred said with a smile, “It will be quite eye-opening. He was in the library the last time I saw him.”

That surprised Bruce, “The library?”

Alfred just nodded and took Bruce’s briefcase.

Bruce walked to the manor’s library, wondering what he would find. As it turned out, he found only what one would expect to find. Damian sat slouched in a low, leather arm chair. Only his head was visible above the top of the chair as Bruce watched from the door.

Bruce approached quietly, until he could see over the back of the chair. Damian was reading a book.

“What are you reading,” Bruce asked softly.

Bruce was very glad that Damian didn’t jump at the quiet voice behind him.

“Great Expectations,” the boy replied.

“Yeah? What do you think?”

Damian shrugged, “Eh, it’s not all I hoped for.”

Bruce snorted a laugh, “Did you get that joke from Dick?”

Damian put the book down and said, “Yes, I did.”

Bruce walked around to the front of the chair, “Um, I notice you aren’t in your room anymore.”

Damian glanced up with a smirk, “Very good, Father,” he said sarcastically, “I noticed you missed dinner.”

Bruce shrugged, “Have to keep the company afloat until you can take over. Alfred said you’re doing better today.”

Damian nodded, “I’m getting there.”

“Want to tell me about it,” Bruce asked.

Damian stood and hugged Bruce tightly. “Maybe later,” he whispered.

_Later…_

After a small dinner and a shower, Bruce sat in the den, reading the newspaper. Damian walked in and flopped down on the couch next to Bruce. Damian leaned over and positioned himself under Bruce’s arm. Bruce smiled down at the teen.

“I guess you really are doing better. Did you want to talk about it now?”

Damian nodded, and Bruce put the paper down, “Go for it, pal.”

Damian took a deep breath, “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what I’m really doing. Who has been helped by me dropping out of life? I’ve…I’ve asked myself a lot of questions, and I couldn’t come up with answers for most of them. It was…frustrating. Talking to you, or Dick, or even Dinah, wasn’t helping anymore. Well, I talked to Robin yesterday, and Jon today. They both called me, and they both said just about the same thing.”

“What did they say,” Bruce asked.

“The exact words don’t matter,” Damian said, “The message does. I’m supposed to be doing things. I have responsibilities. Hiding in my room doesn’t help anyone. It especially doesn’t help me. What happened wasn’t my fault. I can admit that now. It’s sad, yes. It’s terrible, but that family never should have been there. What were they doing, walking around a park with a four year old, at eleven-forty-five at night, the night after a snow storm? It was icy and below freezing. They had no business being there.”

Damian took a breath, then continued, “After talking to Jon, I read that article again. Where does that writer get off blaming _me_ for that girl getting killed? There was nothing I could have done to prevent it.”

Bruce leaned down and kissed Damian’s forehead, “I’m so glad you can realize that now. I’m proud of you. Where did you go after talking to Jon? Alfred couldn’t find you.”

Damian shrugged, “I wandered around for a while. I couldn’t stand to stay in my room anymore. I ended up in the cave.”

“You went to the cave,” Bruce asked, shocked at the news, “You haven’t been down there in weeks.”

Damian nodded, “I was nervous, opening the door, but once I got down there…it was just the cave. I just sat in your chair, looking around, until Dinah called.”

“Alfred said you two already had your session today?”

Damian nodded again, “She had something else to do tonight, and asked if we could meet early. She was very surprised with my progress. We’re going to try not meeting tomorrow, and I’m going to call her Thursday, to see if we need to meet then.”

“You’re cutting down on sessions,” Bruce asked with wide eyes, “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“We won’t know until we try it,” Damian said, leaning into Bruce. “She said to try to return to my normal life as much as possible, but not to patrol for a while.”

Bruce squeezed Damian’s shoulder, “What is this going to look like, Pal?”

Damian shrugged softly, “I guess we’ll find out.”

_The Next Day…_

“You don’t have to come down with us, Little Brother,” Dick said as the family headed down to the cave to prepare for patrol.

Damian followed the older men, “I’m never going to get better if I don’t push myself.”

Jason walked around behind Damian as they descended the stairs, “Let me know if you need help with that. I’d be happy to give you a push.”

“From the top of the stairs, no doubt,” Damian grumbled.

“It doesn’t have to be from the top,” Jason said, “I’ll push you anywhere, anytime.”

Damian sighed, “I’m still getting over my depression. I don’t want to be a depression in the floor of the cave.”

They reached the cave, and Bruce called out, “Get dressed. We’ve got a busy night tonight.”

“How busy,” Tim asked.

“We’ve got rumors of a major arms shipment coming soon, and a drug runner is starting to expand out of the docks.”

“Who goes where,” Dick asked.

“Jason, you and Dick will look into the drug runners. Rumor has it the drugs are moving through Crime Alley before spreading to the rest of the city. Tim, I want you on the arms shipment. Search the Northeast warehouses. I’ll take the Northwest warehouses. We don’t have a date, time, or size of the shipment.”

“You think it’s going to be big enough to span the entire north half of the city, though,” Dick asked, “Those warehouse districts are miles apart.”

“All we know is that it’s happening,” Bruce said, “I want as much information as we can get. Get changed and hit the streets.”

The older boys walked to the locker room, and Bruce turned to Damian, “What are you going to do, son?”

Damian shrugged, “I don’t know, Father. I’m not going to the locker room, though. I can’t stand the sight of my uniform right now.”

“You don’t have to stay down here alone, Kiddo,” Bruce said.

“I know.”

“If you do stay down here, you can always run the radio.”

Damian thought for a second, “It’s something to do.”

Bruce nodded, “If you don’t like your uniform anymore, why don’t you try designing a new one?”

Damian thought about it, then turned and headed for the stairs.

“Where are you going, son?”

“To get a sketchbook, Father,” Damian called over his shoulder.

_Later…_

“Is that actually something you would consider wearing?”

Damian glanced up at his father, who was leaning over the back of the computer chair. Damian had heard the Batmobile return to the cave several minutes ago, so the comment didn’t surprise him.

Damian looked back at the drawing and said, “No. It does make for an interesting design, though.”

“It’s good, Damian,” Bruce said, pulling up a chair, “Where did you get the idea?”

Damian turned his chair to face his Father, “When you…came back, and Dick went back to being Nightwing, I asked him where he came up with the name. He told me it wasn’t something he came up with.”

Bruce smiled, “Oh, yes. The Kryptonian folktale of Nightwing and Flamebird.”

“So, you’ve heard this one,” Damian asked.

Bruce nodded, “I have. This is your take on Flamebird, huh? It’s nice.”

Damian looked down again, “I’ve customized it to be a little more functional than Dick’s costume.”

Damian handed the sketchbook to Bruce, who looked over the specifications, “Integrated utility belt, reinforced padding with Kevlar bulletproofing, color changing stealth matrix, short cape with hood. Am I losing my partner here?”

Damian shook his head, “No. I just thought it would be interesting. However, if you turn the page, I’ve made some adjustments that I’d like to see in my uniform.”

Bruce turned the page and smiled, “I don’t think you can pull this one off. I’d rather see you with an ‘R’ than an ‘S’.”

Confused, Damian leaned forward to see what Bruce was looking at. He shook his head, “Not that one, Father. That’s something I did for Jon a while ago. He needs something better than a sweatshirt and jeans. The other page. Look at the other page.”

Bruce turned the sketchbook over and nodded appreciatively, “Not bad. Flexible cape supports?”

“For gliding, Father,” Damian said, “Almost like one of those squirrel suits.”

“You got rid of the utility belt,” Bruce pointed out.

Damian shook his head and pointed to the pants, “I’ve distributed the items into integrated pouches in the pants. It should offer better weight distribution.”

“That seems like an awful lot to have on your sides.”

“There is also a small number of pouches on the back, at the waistline,” Damian said, “Kind of like a half-belt.”

Bruce looked up questioningly, “Taser gloves?”

Damian smiled, “There are small, battery powered spikes in the knuckles. Should speed up takedowns considerably. They’re activated by a switch inside the glove.”

“That would give a hell of a high five,” Bruce murmured.

“I also redesigned the pants for more flexibility in the knees, and the shirt for better range of motion in the shoulders,” Damian said, “It should also be a bit more flexible, if Jon ever needs to double me again.”

Bruce looked at the three drawings he had seen tonight, “This is incredibly detailed, intricate work. What else do you have in here?”

Damian’s eyes widened as Bruce started flipping through the book. Damian snatched it out of his Father’s hands and exclaimed in a cracking voice, “Nothing! There’s nothing in there!”

Bruce eyed his son for a second, “If there’s something in there you don’t want me to see, just tell me.”

_Good job, Damian. If he doesn’t already know what I’m trying to hide from him, I’m sure he can figure it out. Might as well cop to it. It’ll keep him from trying to find out on his own._ Damian looked down as he blushed, “Robin…Robin…modeled for me.”

_I thought it might be something like that,_ Bruce thought. “And you don’t want me to see that because it’s not a good picture of her? Or, is it _too_ good a picture of her?”

“It’s, um, very good,” Damian felt like he was dragging the words out.

“Is this a picture you don’t want _me_ seeing, or a picture you don’t want _anybody_ seeing?”

“Anybody,” Damian mumbled.

“Because…”

“Because she made me swear to never show it to anyone,” Damian said quickly, “She doesn’t…” Damian sighed heavily, “She isn’t wearing anything.”

Bruce stared at his son for a second, “And, you said she _modeled_ for this picture?”

Damian just nodded.

“Maybe you should find a place to keep pictures like that,” Bruce said, “A place where people aren’t going to just stumble across them.”

Damian nodded, “That’s probably a good idea. I promised Robin I wouldn’t show it to anyone. I couldn’t even keep that promise. Jon already ran across it. He swore he wouldn’t tell anyone. As uncomfortable as that situation was, I think you running across it might be worse.”

Bruce shook his head, trying to hide his smile, “No. Clark finding out that you showed it to Jon would be worse.”

Damian’s head shot up, “I didn’t show it to him. I was showing him other drawings, and forgot that one was in there. I swore him to secrecy.”

“With real swear words, no doubt,” Bruce said with a smile.

Damian sighed, “If it wasn’t a picture of Robin, I’d have no problem showing it to you, but she asked me not to show it to anyone.”

Bruce squeezed Damian’s shoulder reassuringly, “It’s okay, son. You don’t have to show me. I’d still like to see some of your other works sometime, though.”

“I’ll, um, edit my sketchbooks, and we can do that later.”

“Good,” Bruce said, “Come on, it’s bedtime.”

Damian stood and looked down at his Father, who was still wearing the Batsuit. “Shouldn’t you change first?”

Bruce looked down at himself and nodded, “Right.”

_Thursday…_

Damian sat in the computer chair in front of the Bat Computer, idly swinging back and forth while watching security feeds on the screens. Batman and the older sidekicks had left on patrol an hour earlier, and Damian was wondering if he should spend another night in the cave, watching but doing nothing.

The Zeta Tube powered up and announced Black Canary. Damian stood as the woman walked over.

“What are you doing here, Dinah?”

“It’s Thursday,” Dinah said with a smile, “You didn’t call me today.”

Damian’s eyes widened a bit, “Oh, yeah.”

“Did you just not need me, or did you drop into such a deep depression over the last two days that you couldn’t pick up the phone?”

Damian rolled his eyes at Dinah’s smile, “I’ve allowed myself to look at life differently. I feel pretty good.”

“Have you come down here since our last session,” Dinah asked.

Damian nodded, “I was down here last night, too. It gets easier the more I do it.”

“You aren’t going out, are you?”

“Not yet,” Damian said, glancing nervously at the locker room, “I, um, haven’t even been able to go to the locker room or look at my uniform.”

“One step at a time, Damian,” Dinah said, “Don’t move until you’re ready. It’s okay to let yourself heal.”

Damian opened his mouth to reply, but a phone started ringing on the computer console. Damian held up a finger to keep Dinah from talking, and answered the phone.

“Commissioner Gordon, what’s going on?”

The older man sounded confused, “Batman? Are you feeling okay? You sound different.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “Batman is out patrolling. This is Robin.”

Damian’s eyes widened as he heard what he just said. _This is the first time I’ve used that name when I haven’t been talking about my girlfriend since the shooting. It sounds weird…but it sounds right._

“Robin,” Commissioner Gordon asked, “Are you okay? No one has seen you for a while.”

Damian thought quickly, “Caught the flu the last time I went out. It really kicked my ass. I’m better now, but I’ll wait until it’s a little warmer before I start going out again.”

Dinah squeezed Damian’s shoulder at the glaring lie.

Gordon said, “Well, get better. Is Batman around?”

“I can get a message to him,” Damian said.

“I have an update on the drug pipeline,” the Commissioner said, “They’re using vans marked ‘Vault Movers’ to transport their product from the docks to the south side of Crime Alley. We haven’t found their warehouse yet. I was hoping Batman could take a look, to see if he could locate the distribution warehouse.”

“Don’t you have undercover detectives and narcotics officers?”

“None that are safe working that deep in Crime Alley.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “So, let me get this straight. This job is too dangerous for you to send your officers, but you want me to send _my_ _partner_ in to take care of it for you? I’m not sure I want to pass this message along, Commissioner.”

“Do you really want these drugs flooding the streets, Robin,” Gordon asked, “We’ve already had three deaths directly linked to this flood of narcotics.”

“Junkies choose to take their drugs, Commissioner,” Damian said, “That’s three fewer rehab stints that the city has to pay for.”

“That’s cold, Robin. Even for you.”

“No colder than passing off a dangerous assignment in order to protect your officers, who have sworn an oath to protect the city.”

“I _have_ to protect my officers,” Gordon said harshly.

“And I have to protect my partner,” Damian shot back.

The line was silent for a minute before Gordon asked, “Will you at least pass along the information?”

Damian took a calming breath, “I’ll pass it along and let Batman decide what to do with it.”

“Thank you,” Gordon said.

Damian hung up the phone and leaned against the computer console, “If he knew who we really are, there’s no way he’d ask for our help in this. We don’t work for you, Gordon. You shouldn’t take advantage of us the way you do.”

Dinah walked up to Damian, turned him around, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Why did you do that,” Damian sputtered.

“You let me know the next time you want to talk,” Dinah said, “I’m here anytime you want me, but you don’t need me anymore.”

“I don’t,” Damian asked in shock.

“Give yourself some time to heal, as much time as you need. Sooner than you think, though, this Robin will be ready to fly again.”

Dinah hugged Damian and headed for the Zeta Tube. As she was typing in her destination coordinates, Dinah called out, “Don’t you have a call to make, Robin?”

The woman disappeared, and Damian turned back to the computer console, getting back to work.

**A/N: Well, here we are again. I had a very hard time not titling this chapter Break 2: Electric Boogaloo. That just wouldn’t have fit, so I went with Intermission.**

**Just a bit of history, when I wrote the outline to this story, a year ago, the call that got Damian thinking about his situation originally came from Irey. However, recently, I’ve decided to make a change to my timeline. Since Brian Michael Bendis is an asshole, I changed the call to come from Jon. Bendis destroyed our little farm boy to fit his own whims, in a book that will soon be canceled, if there is any justice in the world. I’ve changed a few stories around to feature more young Jon, and more Super Sons in general. Since DC won’t give them to us, we have to make them ourselves.**

**Doesn’t really matter, though. DC’s sales are tanking, along with Marvel’s, to the point where there are currently discussions of shuttering the publishing house side of the business. I’ll believe it when I see it.**

**Anyway, there’s one more chapter in this one. Not that this notice will really mean anything, since I decided to post all three chapters of this work at the same time. I’d really like to know what everyone thinks of this one, or any of my works.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


	3. Return

Break

Chapter 3: Return

_The following takes place four days after chapter two._

“No. No, I can’t do that.”

Damian leaned back on the sitting room couch, crossing his arms over his chest. Bruce tried to hide his sigh while Dinah leaned forward.

“You don’t want to do that,” Dinah said, “but it’s something you can do. Damian, I don’t want you to put it on, I just want you to look at your uniform.”

“You told me to take all the time I need to heal,” Damian said, sounding like he felt the adults were ganging up on him, “Why are you pushing me now?”

“Because you’ve stalled, Damian,” Dinah said, “You made great progress in the past two weeks. There are really only a couple more things to do to get you back to where you were. You told me from the beginning that was your goal.”

Bruce leaned forward and asked, “What is it about your uniform that bothers you? That is the only thing in the cave that you won’t do. Why not?”

Damian looked down, thinking. In actuality, he didn’t know why the thought of his uniform frightened him. Just the thought of it filled him with dread, but he didn’t know if he could put it into words.

Damian began slowly, “I’ve killed hundreds of people in my life. Most of them deserved it. Some were just collateral damage. Most of them were adults, but I did kill some kids, too. I’ve seen hundreds more killed, of all ages. In all of those deaths, it was always from something they did. But, not this one. That girl died for no reason, through something I did, or didn’t do. Something Robin did. There’s a lot of responsibility in going down to that cave, putting on a uniform, and working the streets. When I decided to accept that responsibility, I also swore I wouldn’t be responsible for more bodies.”

Damian sighed and leaned forward, staring at his hands, “I know that I didn’t kill that little girl. I accept that. At the same time…even though I know it’s not my fault, I still feel guilty. I think…I think this breakthrough, as you called it, comes from dissociating myself from Robin. That guy aimed for Robin and hit that girl. There’s no denying that. I don’t…I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to be Robin, if being Robin gets people killed for no reason.”

The room fell silent for a minute. Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Dinah held up a hand to stop him. “How many people have died because of Robin,” Dinah asked softly.

“Several,” Damian said quietly.

“How many people have been saved because of Robin,” Bruce asked in the same tone of voice.

Damian glanced up, “Is that what this all is? A math problem? Human life measured in plusses and minuses?”

Bruce leaned forward, “I want an answer to my question, Damian. You’re focusing on one bad incident. Or, several bad incidents, as I’m sure you’ll point out. I’m betting you can’t count how many people you’ve helped as Robin. Are you really going to let a small number of perceived failures outweigh all of your successes?”

“It’s not that simple, Father,” Damian said.

“No, it’s not,” Bruce agreed. “Who ever said what we do is simple?”

“I don’t want this to happen again,” Damian said, his voice rising, “I won’t be responsible for more dead bodies.”

“Then be responsible for the live ones,” Bruce shot back. “The problem with how you’re looking at this situation is that the only hard data we can use to analyze this problem is dead bodies. Batman and Robin don’t keep track of the live ones. We don’t get thank you notes for getting murderers and criminals off the streets. We go into this knowing that the only publicity we will get is negative. We do it because it has to be done. Who will stand up, if we don’t?”

“That’s why _you_ do this, Father,” Damian said, “It’s not why _we _do it. It never was.”

“Then, why do you do it,” Bruce asked.

Damian stood, “You took all of us in when we were broken, when we were in broken situations, and you healed us. You made us whole. But you continue to put yourself in harm’s way. We go out with you, to make sure you come home. To make sure we aren’t going to end up back in the same situation that you took us out of. Do you know why the Batman impersonators, and that group that impersonated me, all failed? And why we’re able to continue? They all wanted to _be _Batman and Robin. The real Robin’s don’t want to be Batman. We want to be _with_ Batman, because you did for us what I couldn’t do for that girl. You saved us.”

Damian trailed off as Bruce sat staring at his son in shock. They stared for a minute before Damian turned and hurried out of the sitting room.

Dinah took a breath, “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Neither was I,” Bruce said.

“You should have,” a new voice said.

Bruce and Dinah looked at the door to see Tim and Jason walk into the room.

“Why should I have expected that reaction,” Bruce asked.

“Because it’s true,” Jason said with a shrug.

“You all felt that way,” Bruce asked.

Tim nodded, “Yes. You know what it’s like to lose a father. So do we. We don’t want to do it again.”

“Damian didn’t lose a father,” Bruce said. Jason and Tim glanced at each other, wondering if either of them were going to point out that Damian did lose a father, albeit for a short amount of time.

Dinah spoke up, “No, he gained a father.”

“We all gained one,” Jason said.

Bruce shook his head, “Okay, so how does that come into Damian no longer wanting to patrol as Robin?”

Tim shook his head, “You really don’t get it?” Bruce shook his head, and Tim continued, “He said he doesn’t want to be responsible for more dead bodies.”

“You really shouldn’t listen in on your brother’s therapy sessions,” Dinah said.

“Don’t have them in public,” Jason replied.

Tim sighed, “Normally I’d make you figure it out on your own, but I’ll just say it this time. Damian doesn’t want to be in a situation where you are the one he can’t save. Like he said, he’s seen hundreds of people dead and dying. None of us want you on that list.”

_Meanwhile…_

Dick walked into Damian’s room at the sound of labored breathing and gasping. Damian was sitting on the end of the bed, trying to catch his breath. Dick knew Damian had a history of anxiety and panic attacks, but he hadn’t seen one in years.

Dick knelt in front of his brother and rested a hand on the boy’s fake knee. “Breathe, Little D. Relax. You’re okay. You’re safe. Relax.”

Damian glanced at Dick with wide eyes as he tried to control himself. Dick held the eye contact, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay. We’ll deal with it, but you need to calm down. Breathe with me. In, out. In, out. Slowly. Deeply.”

Slowly, Damian’s breathing began to even out as he breathed with his brother. After a minute, Damian nodded at Dick in thanks, still unable to speak. Dick pulled Damian off of the bed, to sit on the floor next to him.

Throwing an arm around Damian’s shoulders, Dick said, “Don’t scare me like that. I forgot how scary your anxiety attacks are to watch.”

Damian didn’t say anything. He just laid his head on Dick’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in therapy right now,” Dick asked softly.

Damian shook his head lightly.

Dick asked, “You’re done already?”

Damian shrugged, then nodded.

Dick sighed, “Not talking? Anything I can do for you?”

Damian closed his eyes and snuggled into his brother’s side.

Dick smiled, “I get it. You’ll talk when you’re ready.”

Half an hour later, when Dick thought Damian had fallen asleep, the teen released a breath and spoke quietly, in a voice barely audible to Dick, whose ear was less than six inches from Damian’s mouth. “I told Father.”

“You told Father what,” Dick asked with a smile.

“Why we’re Robin,” Damian said softly, “What it means to us.”

Dick patted the top of Damian’s head, “He needs to be reminded every so often. How did he react?”

“Like Father,” Damian said with a snort.

Dick shrugged, “Well, can’t say that I’m surprised. What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” Damian said, “I know what I should do, and what I have to do, but I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“What should you do,” Dick asked.

“I should find a way to force Father to stop being Batman.”

Dick smiled, “What do you have to do?”

Damian sighed, “I have to get over myself, and get back out on the streets with Father.”

“What are you going to do?”

Damian remained silent, thinking about the question. It had been going through his mind a lot lately.

Dick continued, “You know Bruce isn’t going to stop being Batman, so what are _you_ going to do?”

Damian sighed heavily and looked down, “It’s Robin’s job to protect Batman. I can’t do that from my bedroom. Is there a way to go back without diving in completely?”

Dick smiled, “You mean, like, starting out in the kiddie pool?”

Damian rolled his eyes, “I wouldn’t put it quite that way, but that is essentially what I’m looking for.”

“How about radio duty,” Dick asked.

“What’s the next step up from that,” Damian asked, “I’ve already been running the radio.”

Dick shrugged, “How about a monitoring shift at the Watchtower?”

Damian cocked his head, “That’s…a little closer to what I’m looking for.”

Dick eyed his brother for a second, “You still don’t want to look at your uniforms?” Damian shook his head, looking down again. Dick nodded, “I have an idea about that. Bruce will hate it, until I tell him that this is leading to getting you back in the field. Listen, Tim and I have been taking short monitoring shifts with your team. Why don’t you take my shift with Jon tonight?”

“That sounds acceptable,” Damian said, “What is this new uniform you’re thinking of?”

_Downstairs…_

Bruce looked up from the Bat Computer as Dick and Damian approached. He smiled, seeing Damian wearing Dick’s oversized, black and yellow, hooded Batman sweatshirt.

“Cold, kiddo?”

Damian rolled his eyes, “I’ll be cold until April. You know I don’t like winter.”

“You had no problem liking it at Christmas,” Bruce pointed out.

“That’s because you let Robin come out for the holidays,” Damian said with a smile, “Did you know that was the first Christmas Robin and I have spent together?”

Bruce cocked his head to the side with an introspective look on his face as Dick headed for the locker room, “Was it? I didn’t know that.”

Damian looked down for a second, then said, “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have run off like that.”

“If you don’t want to…”

Damian cut Bruce off, “I need to change. I know it. It’s just…not easy.”

“I know, kiddo,” Bruce said, “How can I help you?”

Damian released a large breath and started pacing behind the computer chair, “I know, if I just do I, and go out again, I’d be able to handle it. I can be Robin again. It’s just, that first step. Putting on the uniform again. The locker room scares the hell out of me, and I don’t know why.”

“Would it make it easier to know that Alfred got rid of the uniform you wore that night,” Bruce asked.

Damian looked up in shock, “He did? Why did he do that?”

“That one was on the smaller side, wasn’t it,” Bruce asked, “Alfred has been making you larger uniforms. He’s actually replaced most of your uniforms since he finally got the materials he needed, just before Christmas.”

“I didn’t know that,” Damian said, “No wonder he was so busy.”

“Does knowing that help anything,” Bruce asked.

Damian thought hard for a second, “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. Um, I talked to Dick after I ran out of our session. I think we’ve come up with a way to get me working again, without throwing me in.”

“What did you have in mind,” Bruce asked.

Dick approached, just a mask short of being fully dressed as Nightwing, and handed Damian one of his green masks. Damian took it hesitantly.

Dick looked back and forth between Father and Son, and took over the explanation, “Damian is going to take my Watchtower shift tonight.”

Damian stared at the mask for a long second before carefully affixing it to his face. Bruce watched his boy the whole time, finally understanding what Damian was wearing. “You are planning on going to the Watchtower dressed like that? I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

Dick smiled, “He’s doubling with Jon, so the uniforms will almost match. He won’t be seen by the public out of uniform. It’s just a way to get his feet wet.”

“Are you okay with this, Damian,” Bruce asked.

Damian shrugged, “I have to start somewhere.”

“What are people going to call you while you’re there,” Bruce asked.

Damian shrugged, “I’ll make Jon do all the talking, if we get any calls.”

“And, if someone comes to see you?”

“I guess we can stick with D,” Damian said, “I go by that all the time.”

“Not in the field, though,” Bruce said sternly.

“He’s not going in the field,” Dick said.

Bruce released a breath and grumbled, “No. I suppose he isn’t. I don’t like this.”

Dick nudged Damian and said, “Told you.”

Bruce sighed, “But I guess I can’t see a better way to do this. Go. You’re already late for Dick’s shift.”

“Thank you, Father,” Damian said as he headed for the Zeta Tube.

_On the Watchtower…_

“Recognize Robin, B-30.”

Damian winced as he heard the computer voice announce his arrival at the Watchtower. _Forgot about that. Still, it doesn’t sound too bad. It’s my name; I need to get used to hearing it again, if I’m going to patrol again._

Damian stopped outside of the control room and watched as Jon flipped through several planetary newsfeeds. _Well, here goes nothing._

Damian took two steps into the control room and stopped as Jon froze at the sound of the footsteps. “It’s about time you got here, Uncle Nightwing. You’re late.”

Damian shoved his hands in the pocket on the front of the sweatshirt, “Sorry to disappoint you, Superboy. Nightwing won’t be here tonight.”

Jon turned with wide eyes and gasped deeply at the sight of his friend. “Dami…Rob…You’re not in uniform. What do I call you?”

Damian took another step forward as Jon stood, “D works for tonight.”

Jon walked over and looked Damian up and down, confused by the non-uniform, “What does this mean? I mean, are you back?”

“Well, I’m here,” Damian said, “As for back…let’s see how tonight goes.”

Jon surprised Damian with a tight hug, and said softly, “I missed you, D.”

Damian awkwardly patted Jon’s back a couple times, “I’ve missed you, too. I’ve missed the whole team. I should tell you thank you, though. Talking to you a couple days ago really made me think. I needed to do something.”

Jon backed up and shot Damian a goofy smile, “If you’re here, that means you can use the Zeta Tube. That means you can come to my birthday party next weekend!”

“How do you know I didn’t just take a space shuttle up here,” Damian asked, before a smile crossed his face, and he snorted a small laugh, “I guess I can. Let’s get this monitoring shift going.”

_Later…_

“How did it go, Night…what…the…”

Damian turned in his seat at the voice behind him. “Hello, Superman.”

Superman sputtered, “Da…Rob…you’re here? What does this mean?”

“It’s just a trial,” Damian said quickly, “I don’t know if I’m back yet. I…I can’t even look at my uniforms yet. I’m surprised the mask hasn’t bothered me enough to take it off.”

Superman hadn’t known there was any issue with Damian and his uniforms. He nodded, then asked, “Where’s Superboy?”

Damian hitched a thumb at the chair next to his, where Superboy was curled up and smiling. “He fell asleep an hour ago. He looked happy, so I didn’t want to wake him.”

Superman gave a small smile. _I bet I know what made him so happy tonight, too._ “I didn’t think doing this on a school night would be a good idea.”

“Is that why you’re here after only three hours,” Damian asked.

Superman nodded, “We’ve been working your team on short shifts with different League members. I’m sure you made Superboy very happy by showing up tonight. He’s been missing you.”

“That’s what he said,” Damian said, “Are you sure you still want to call them _my_ team?”

Superman smiled, “They would revolt if we called it anything else. Anything to report?”

Damian shook his head, “No, it’s been quiet. Superboy hasn’t even been snoring.”

Superman nodded, “Good. So, what’s next for you?”

Damian shrugged, “I don’t know. This worked out well, and I’ve been working the radio while Father patrols.” Damian sighed, “I’ll have to get out there eventually. It’s just taking that first step.”

“What do you need to take that step,” Superman asked.

Damian shook his head, “I need an answer to that question. I’ve heard it a lot lately, but I can’t answer it yet.”

Superman patted Damian’s shoulder, “You’ll get there.” Superman reached down and gently picked Superboy up, “Lois will kill me if I keep him out too much later on a school night.”

They walked to the Zeta Tube and Superboy woke up with a small yawn, “Oh, hey Dad. Hey, wait. Where’s D?”

“I’m right here, Superboy,” Damian said from just behind the Man of Steel.

Superboy looked around the larger man, “Did you call my Dad because I fell asleep?”

Damian shook his head, “Our shift is over. He came to get you on his own.”

“Um,” Superboy started nervously, “When will I see you again?”

Superman stopped entering his home coordinates into the Zeta Tube to listen to the answer to that question.

“I don’t know,” Damian said, “Your birthday party, maybe?”

“Oh,” Superboy said, “Can…can I call you, though?”

Damian gave a small smirk as Superman activated the Zeta Tube, “You better call me.”

Superboy’s smile lit up the room, until Superman pulled his son through the Zeta Tube.

Damian couldn’t stop his own smile as he entered the Cave’s coordinates and returned home.

_The Next Night…_

Damian wandered into the cave to find a bustle of activity. He stayed out of the way, by the stairs, for several minutes, until he was noticed by Tim.

“Hello, Damian.”

“Tim,” Damian said with a nod.

“Looking like it’s going to be a busy one tonight,” Tim said, “We got some good intel on out drug smugglers last night. Looks like they’re making a move tonight.”

Damian hadn’t been keeping up on cases since his self-imposed hiatus began. Even running the radio for the past few nights hadn’t allowed him to catch up.

“Is that the group that Gordon called about a couple nights ago?”

Tim nodded, “Yeah. Their operation is huge.”

“Will you be able to handle it,” Damian asked nervously.

Tim took a breath, “I won’t lie, I’d like more help than we have.”

Damian sighed and looked down guiltily, “Sorry.”

Tim placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder, “Hey, these things take time. We’ll be okay. You just worry about getting yourself okay.”

Damian gave a small nod, “Okay.”

Bruce walked up to his youngest sons, “We’re almost ready, Tim.”

“Okay, Bruce,” Tim said, walking away.

Bruce turned to his youngest, “Damian?”

Damian didn’t look up, “Tim said it’s going to be a rough one tonight?”

Bruce nodded, “That’s the way it’s shaping up. As much as I’d like you in the field tonight, I know you’re not there yet. I think I’d actually like you on the radio tonight more than in the field.”

Damian glanced up, “Why?”

“We’re going to need some coordination tonight,” Bruce said, “We’ve got a couple cases we’re working. Come, sit in on the briefing. You won’t need a uniform for that.”

Bruce and Damian walked over to sit in front of the computer. They were joined a couple minutes later by Dick, Jason, and Tim.

“Since when do you brief bystanders,” Jason asked, eyeing Damian.

Damian lifted a fist, and, when no one moved to stop him, quickly punched Jason in the chin. Damian and Jason both glanced around the circle, wondering what sort of reaction the action would receive. They then wondered why there was no reaction.

Shrugging together, Jason and Damian both jumped at each other, determined to make the most of this opportunity. Before the fight could escalate, Bruce nodded. Quickly, Dick and Tim jumped out of their chairs and separated the combatants.

As the even numbered brothers were dragged back to their chairs, Bruce said, “That’s enough of that. Damian, stop falling for his provocations all the time. Jason, he’s trying. You can be a little supportive.”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but Bruce raised a finger, cutting off his second son, “Now is not the time for this. Get your head in the game. We’ve got two problems to address tonight. First, the drug smugglers. We have confirmed reports that they are moving their product out of Crime Alley tonight. Tim what do you have?”

Tim nodded, “Commissioner Gordon’s tip about the smugglers using moving vans was spot-on. Vault Movers is a real company, not just a front for the smugglers. They report ten trucks rented to the same person tonight.”

“How could the company not suspect smuggling with something like that,” Dick asked.

“Unless they’re in on it, Jason said.

Bruce shrugged, “It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.”

Tim continued, “The report is they are using a mass move to get their product out, in the hopes that most of it will slip through in many smaller trucks, instead of one large shipment. We know where their warehouse is, but we don’t know where the final destinations are.”

Bruce took over, “We want to get them as close to their warehouse as possible. Gordon has narcotics officers standing by, watching the warehouse.”

“You mean, he actually did the right thing,” Damian asked.

Bruce looked at Damian, then said, “We’ll still most likely have to do the heavy lifting on this. The Narcs will be there to take the drugs.”

“And the credit,” Jason said.

“You’re more than welcome to do a press conference after this is all done, if you want, Jason,” Bruce said.

Jason didn’t respond, so Tim brought up a map of Crime Alley. He highlighted a building and said, “This is the warehouse. As you can see, there are three routes in and out of there. That’s where we’ll be.”

“Damian, you’ll be coordinating from here,” Bruce said, “You’ll be our go-between with the police. We have Jim’s police cell phone number. He said he’ll be in the area tonight. Call him on one of the secure lines if we need to report anything.”

“Okay,” Damian said.

Bruce took a deep breath, “Here’s where it gets difficult. I received a tip on our arms smugglers. They are planning a sale at the northwest warehouses either tonight or tomorrow. We still don’t know what the merchandise is, but it’s supposed to be big.”

Tim and Dick looked uneasy at the information. Dick asked, “What does this mean?”

“You three can handle the drug runners. I’ll take the arms deal.”

Tim shook his head, “These two locations couldn’t be any farther apart while still being in the same city. Are you sure you want to be out there alone?”

Bruce shook his head, “We don’t even know if the arms deal is happening. We _do_ know that the drugs are being moved tonight. You three, and the GCPD, can handle it.”

“And you can handle an unknown arms deal on your own,” Dick asked questioningly.

Only Bruce saw Damian turn his face to look away. “I’ve done it before. Worry about your assignment. The last thing we need is those drugs getting out.”

Dick didn’t look convinced, but said, “Okay. We should get out there, then.”

Bruce nodded, “Jason, I want you in charge out there tonight. You know the area better.”

Jason smirked, “Of course.”

Damian gave a smirk of his own, “You’re finally useful, Todd.”

“Don’t worry,” Jason said, “I’m sure you’ll be useful again, one day, Squirt.”

“Enough,” Bruce said, before the argument could turn nasty, “Get going.”

Dick, Jason, and Tim walked off to the locker room to get dressed. Bruce turned to Damian and said, “You set yourself up for that one.”

“I know,” Damian said lightly, “I have to give him some low-hanging fruit every so often, to make him feel better about himself.”

“They’re really going to need your help tonight,” Bruce said, “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

Damian took a deep breath, “I think so. Um, how long am I grounded for?”

Bruce looked at Damian strangely, “Grounded for what?”

“For punching Jason,” Damian looked up, “Why did no one stop me?”

Bruce smiled, “Oh, that. Well, you’re old enough to make your own decisions. We’ll talk about that later.”

Damian sighed, “So, I am grounded.”

“I told you, we’ll talk about that later,” Bruce said, “I have to get ready. Get yourself set up.”

Bruce walked away to the locker room to change. By the time he got there, Dick and Jason were ready to go, and were just waiting on Tim to finish his preparations.

“You boys going to be okay,” Bruce asked.

“Of course,” Jason said, “They have me leading them.”

Bruce shook his head as he started changing into his uniform, “Hit the streets, and be careful out there.”

Three motorcycles roared out of the cave and onto the main highway, heading into town.

“So, what’s our plan, O Fearless Leader,” Nightwing asked over the radio.

“Well, I have the two of you to work with, so I’ll keep it simple.”

“Are you sure you need to keep it simple for them,” Damian asked, breaking into the conversation, “Or is it that the most complicated thing you can come up with is still simple for the average mind?”

“Hey,” Red Hood called, “We aren’t so far away yet that I won’t turn around and go back to the cave to kick your ass.”

“You can try,” Damian said.

“Come on, Hood,” Red Robin said, “What’s the plan?”

“It’s simple. There are three ways in and out of the warehouse, and three of us. We each take one of the routes and do whatever we have to do to make sure the drugs don’t get out.”

Nightwing and Red Robin thought for a second. Nightwing said, “Easy enough.”

“Do you have any objections, Broken Wing,” Red Hood asked Damian sarcastically.

Damian was fuming at the name. That one hurt more than all the times Jason called him Squirt. “Father already confirmed that I’m grounded. I might as well earn it. I’ll give you my objections when you get back.”

“We’ll discuss this later,” Nightwing said sharply. “We’re fifteen minutes out. Let’s concentrate a little here.”

_Half an hour later…_

“Hello, Commissioner,” Damian said into the Batphone.

“Robin again, huh? I thought you’d be over your cold by now. What did you say it was? The bird flu, right?”

Damian rolled his eyes hard. That was the same joke Dick made every time Damian got sick. “I’m over it. It’s still a little cold out for my tastes, though. What’s going on?”

Gordon sounded concerned, “Our Narcotics enforcers are ready to move on the warehouse. Batman said he would be here. We haven’t seen anyone.”

Damian cocked his head, “They should be there already. You need to be looking for Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin.”

“Well, no one’s here,” Gordon said.

“Where are you, Commissioner? What’s the address of the warehouse?”

“1083 Heath street,” Gordon said, “Why?”

“You’re at the wrong address, Commissioner,” Damian sighed, “The warehouse it as 12762 Denardo, in South Crime Alley.”

“Damn it,” the older man said, “We’re north of Hoyle. It’ll take us half an hour to redeploy.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed, “Then I suggest you hurry up and do that, while I inform Nightwing not to expect back-up for a while.”

“Right,” the Commissioner said in a subdued tone, “Sorry, Robin.”

Damian disconnected the call and growled angrily into the radio, “Come in, Nightwing.”

“We’re getting ready for the big kickoff here,” Nightwing said, noting Damian’s tone, “Is it important?”

“You could say that,” Damian said, “Gordon sent his men to the wrong address. Don’t expect any back-up for at least half an hour.”

The line was silent for half a minute before Red Robin said, “You’re kidding. Tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish I was,” Damian said, “You’re on your own for now.”

“Good,” Red Hood said, “They won’t get in our way.”

“We can use the extra numbers, Hood,” Red Robin said.

“They can come in and clean up after us,” Hood said.

Nightwing looked at the warehouse as the loading dock door opened, “See if you can get Gordon to hurry up, Robin. They’re moving.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Damian said before disconnecting his call.

Nightwing sighed as van after van pulled out of the warehouse. “I’ve got eight…no, nine vans. They’re splitting up into groups of three.”

“Watch for the tenth van,” Red Robin said, “The rental company reported ten vans out tonight.”

Nightwing shook his head, “They closed the loading bay door. If they’re using number ten, they aren’t using it yet.”

Nightwing descended to his assigned route to wait for the first van. They had cleared the streets as much as possible of bystanders and possible lookouts, and now Nightwing had no bad feelings about blocking the end of the street with dumpsters. Red Robin had laid out a pattern of his limited number of caltrops, and was waiting for his first van to become a road block. Red Hood was taking the direct approach. He was waiting in an alley on his motorcycle for the vans to pass. His plan was to ride up to the vans and shoot out the tires.

“Okay, Nightwing,” Damian called on the radio, “Gordon is dispatching a SWAT van, ETA ten minutes, and a couple Harbor Patrol units should be there in five. That’s all Gordon has in the area. I did everything I could, short of telling him exactly who you are under that mask, to convince him to send more back-up. Everything else is still rolling from the other warehouse, twenty-five minutes out.”

Nightwing took a deep breath, “Thanks, Robin. We’ll make it work.”

“Right,” Damian didn’t sound convinced as he turned off his microphone.

Nightwing could hear the engines approaching, and at first was concerned when six vans passed the street he had staked out. He felt better when the last three vans in line turned down his street.

“They’re here,” Nightwing said over the radio.

“Here, too,” Red Robin said.

“Yep,” Red Hood barely acknowledged.

The vans slowed as they approached the dumpsters, and Nightwing smirked. The former acrobat threw a brick through the driver’s side window of the first van. He followed that up by running and jumping feet first through the window. He kicked the passenger as he landed in the driver’s lap.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Nightwing said as he simultaneously elbowed the driver in the face and removed the keys from the ignition.

“Now, don’t go anywhere,” Nightwing said as he opened the passenger door and rolled out of the van.

Running past the second van, Nightwing heard a series of loud pops from the next street over, and gun shots from a little farther away.

Nightwing sprinted for the third van as the driver slammed the transmission into reverse. The Vigilante pulled one of his eskrima sticks and smashed the driver’s side window when he was close enough. The driver flinched as safety glass showered over him. That loss of focus gave Nightwing enough time to activate the taser in his stick and shock the driver into unconsciousness. He then held the taser to the ignition key, frying the van’s electrical system.

The middle van began backing out of the street, while also trying to run over Nightwing. Nightwing climbed up on the door of the third van and jumped to the roof of the second van as the driver slammed into the side of the third van. The driver quickly jammed the van into drive, hoping to make a clean escape.

Nightwing leaned over the cab from the roof of the van and knocked on the windshield with a smile. “Stop, please,” Nightwing said.”

The driver slammed on the brakes in fright, sending Nightwing sliding off of the roof of the moving van. Nightwing had been expecting this to happen, and he had prepared himself. As he slid down the hood of the van, Nightwing attached a short range EMP device to the hood. The device activated, disabling the van, and the drug runner’s cell phones.

Nightwing stood up and dusted himself off with a smile. _Three vans, no casualties, in under five minutes. Not bad. These guys seem a little amateurish for drug runners, though._

“Done,” Nightwing said over the radio.

“What took you so long,” Hood asked.

“I decided not to shoot anyone,” Nightwing said, “How you doing, Red Robin?”

“All done. Bring in the cops.”

“The Harbor Patrol just showed up here,” Red Hood said.

“This was a little easy for hardened drug runners,” Red Robin said.

“I was thinking the same thing,” Nightwing replied, “I’m still tying up my guys. Can you head back to the warehouse and see if we missed something, Red Robin?”

“Uh, we missed something,” Red Hood said, “These vans are empty.”

Nightwing’s eyes widened under his mask. _A diversion?_ Nightwing’s vans were just as empty as Red Hood’s, and he called out, “Reds, get to the warehouse, now! Robin, come in.”

“Go ahead, Nightwing,” Damian answered.

“The vans are a diversion. See if you can bring up traffic cameras in the area of the warehouse.”

“Give me a minute,” Damian said as he typed a request into the computer.

“Hurry up, Short Stuff,” Red Hood said as he revved his motorcycle and headed back to the warehouse.

“I’m not Red Robin,” Damian grumbled over the open line, “This is going to take me a second.”

“Aww, thanks, Little Brother,” Red Robin said.

Damian sighed as the feed came up on the screen. “Okay, I have it. Rewinding…shit.”

“What,” Nightwing asked.

“Four minutes ago, three vans left the warehouse,” Damian said, “It looks like they left after you moved into your ambushing position, Nightwing. It looks like they’re heading back to the docks.”

“Why would they go back to the docks,” Red Robin asked.

“Why don’t you go find them and ask,” Damian said, “I’m tracking their path. Give me a second.”

“Make it a damn short one,” Red Hood said.

Damian waited for a follow-up joke related to his short stature, but it didn’t come. _Must be a serious situation out there, if he isn’t taking the obvious joke at my expense._ “Okay, they headed east, away from the warehouse, on South drive. They turned left onto Barton, right onto Waverly, left onto Evans, right onto Durham. Then, left onto Harbor Front road. They’re still there, heading north.”

“Keep watch for us, and let us know if they turn,” Nightwing said, “We’re on our way.”

“I’ll also call Gordon and have him reroute some of his officers.”

“Good idea,” Nightwing said.

Damian made the call, then went back to watching the traffic cameras. After a minute, he got a call from Batman.

“Come in, son.”

_He’s speaking softly. He must be in a stakeout position. Maybe the arms deal is happening after all._ “Go ahead, Batman.”

“I’m at the Northwest Warehouses. We’ve got activity here. It looks like the arms deal is going down tonight.”

Damian’s eyes widened, “What do you need?”

“Some sort of back up would be nice,” Batman said.

Damian shook his head, “The others are at the docks. They’re almost two hours away.”

“We can’t call them off of the drug runners,” Batman said, “Call Gordon. See if he can dispatch something in this direction.”

“What does the situation there look like,” Damian asked nervously, “How many people are you seeing? Should I be asking Gordon for a patrol car, or a SWAT team?”

Batman did a quick head count, “Oh, let’s go for the SWAT team. I’ve got ten people with a moving truck, just waiting around. I don’t think they’re here to unload furniture.”

“Armed?”

Batman rolled his eyes, “It’s an arms deal. Of course, they’re armed. Rifles, mostly. This is only half of the deal, so who knows what the other half will be carrying.”

“Okay, let me call Gordon.” Damian turned off his microphone and called Commissioner Gordon’s cell phone.

“This is Commissioner Gordon.”

“Commissioner, this is Robin…”

The older man interrupted the youth with an annoyed tone, “My officers are getting closer, Robin. I don’t need a reminder that they’re still needed.”

Robin sighed impatiently, “No, you need to order a SWAT team to meet up with Batman at the Northwest Warehouses. He’s staking out an arms deal, and it’s about to go down.”

“Of course, it is,” Gordon said in a sigh, “How big an arms deal are we talking about here, Robin? I’m not tasking a SWAT team for a crate of hot Glocks.”

Damian growled out, “Would Batman ask for a SWAT team if it was something that minor?”

Gordon released a breath, “No, he wouldn’t. Let me see what I can get in the area. It’s going to be a while, though. Everything I had available I sent to cover this drug shipment. If Batman had told me earlier that he was working two cases on opposite ends of the city, I could have planned better.”

“Thank you,” Damian said before hanging up the phone. He called Batman and reported in, “I made the call, but you shouldn’t expect anything, or anything soon. Gordon said he has just about everything tied up chasing the drug runners.”

Batman gave a soft groan, “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“What do you want to do, Batman?”

“Their truck is a pretty good sized box truck,” Batman said, “Whatever they’re getting, or selling, it’s going to be big. We can’t let this go.”

Damian released a long breath, “Let me try something.”

Damian didn’t wait for Batman’s response before muting the radio and dialing a familiar contact.

“State your business.”

Damian rolled his eyes, “Don’t you have the Cave lines programmed into your caller ID, Oracle? You don’t need the computer answering service.”

The familiar voice of Damian’s eventual sister-in-law sounded over the speakers, “Is this Robin calling, or some other person?”

“I…maybe somewhere in-between,” Damian said hesitantly, “We don’t have time for that right now. God, I swore I’d never do this. Do you still run your team? What did you call them? The Angry Birds?”

Oracle snorted a laugh, “The Birds of Prey. No, they aren’t active anymore. Haven’t been for almost five years now.”

_No wonder we haven’t been bothered by them in a while. _“What happened?”

“They couldn’t hack it,” Oracle said, “They said they were giving it up before they got killed. They all moved out of Gotham a while back. Why are you asking about them?”

Damian shook his head, “Batman needs back-up. He’s tracking an arms deal.”

“Why,” Oracle asked.

“To not let more weapons out on the streets of Gotham,” Damian said, “Isn’t that obvious?”

“No,” Oracle said, “I mean, why does he need back-up? Isn’t that your job?”

A spear of guilt cut straight through Damian. “Didn’t Nightwing tell you? I…I can’t.”

Oracle gasped, “I’m sorry, D. I…I didn’t know that you still…couldn’t. Well, what about Nightwing?”

“He and the Reds are on the other side of town, dealing with a drug smuggling ring. Unfortunately, so are most of the GCPD. Gordon said he would try to dispatch something, but it didn’t sound promising. Do you know of anyone who can help? Any way we can give Batman a little support?”

“What about the League,” Oracle asked.

Damian shook his head, “You know what Batman would say about that.”

“If it meant stopping this arms deal he’s watching, I think he’d say thank you.”

“What else do you have,” Damian asked.

The teen could hear typing in the background, “I’m dispatching a drone. At least we’ll be able to see what he’s up against. Where is the deal taking place?”

“The Northwest Warehouses,” Damian said, “Batman said one party is already there, with a box truck.”

“Alright,” Oracle said, “three minutes to target.”

“Is the drone armed,” Damian asked.

“…No.”

Damian sighed, “It would make this much easier if you sent an armed drone.”

“Don’t you think I’d send one, if I had one?”

The line fell silent for a second, before Oracle asked, “Are you any better?”

Damian answered slowly, “Yes. I’ve gotten better. I can be in the cave now. I spent weeks not even being able to go to that hall. I’ve been running the radio for a few days, and I took a short monitoring shift last night.”

“That’s good to hear…I’m sorry, what am I supposed to call you right now?”

“I guess you can call me Robin,” Damian said, “Nightwing’s been calling me that all night.”

Oracle hesitated before asking, “When are you going to be Robin in more than name?”

“I wish I knew,” Damian said softly.

A small beep preceded an aerial shot being displayed on the main screen. “Approaching the target location,” Oracle said. “There’s the Batmobile, parked just outside of the warehouse complex. There’s the box truck.”

“That’s a long distance away, if Batman needs to get to the car in a hurry,” Robin said.

“We’ve got activity coming from the east,” Oracle said a second before the radio beeped for attention.

Damian answered the call and conferenced in both lines he was monitoring.

Batman spoke first, “What are you doing? I’ve been calling.”

“I’m trying to find you some help,” Damian said, “Oracle is on the line with us.”

“Oracle,” Batman said.

“Hi, Bats,” Oracle greeted.

“It might be too late for help,” Batman said, “I’m seeing an eighteen-wheeler pulling into the area.”

“We see it, too,” Damian said, “Oracle dispatched a drone. We’ve got eyes on the target. Where are you?”

“South of their location, about one hundred feet.”

Oracle adjusted the view, until they spotted the Dark Knight on a warehouse roof, in the shadow of an air conditioning unit.

“We see you,” Oracle said, “What’s it look like from your perspective?”

“I’m assuming you can already see the truck?”

“If you’re talking about the one that just pulled in, then yes,” Damian said.

All three observers watched as two men spoke between the two trucks, which were parked end to end. The men shook hands, and Batman said, “Their negotiation must have gone well. The box truck is backing up to the semi.”

The back of the box truck opened, and a man started throwing duffel bags out of the back. The negotiator from the semi-truck opened one of the bags. Batman stared at it through his monocular at the same time as Oracle zoomed in. The bag was full of cash.

“If all of those are full of money,” Damian said in a small voice, “then this is…huge.”

“There’s an understatement,” Oracle said.

Batman took a shaky breath, “Twenty bags full of money. I’m not sure I want them to open the back of that semi.”

The arms dealers opened the back of the truck, despite Batman’s wish that they wouldn’t. No matter what Batman thought might be in there, his guesses were nowhere near accurate.

“Is…is that what I think it is,” Damian asked.

Oracle was having trouble breathing, “Uh, I think it is.”

“It is,” Batman said heavily as the box truck backed up to the semi and the transfer began, “It’s a cruise missile.”

The line was silent for half a minute. None of them wanted to believe something like this was happening in Gotham City.

Batman shook off his shock first, “Oracle, get in touch with someone from the government or the military. This is bigger than a GCPD SWAT team at this point.”

“What am I supposed to tell them,” Oracle asked.

“That if they don’t want a crater where North Gotham currently is, they need to send some sort of response team.”

Damian was still staring slack-jawed at the screen, “How the hell did they get a cruise missile?”

“Does that really matter,” Batman asked, “They have one, and they just sold it to someone else. I can’t let that truck leave here.”

“You can’t go down there,” Damian said firmly.

Batman looked up, staring at the sky in the hopes that he was looking at the camera on the drone, “You can see the situation. Does it look like I have much of a choice right now?”

It didn’t, but Damian didn’t want to say that out loud. He couldn’t say anything, because Batman was right.

“Um, I reached out to a contact with the military,” Oracle said, “They don’t believe me.”

“Send them the video feed if you have to,” Batman said.

“I did. They’re trying to verify authenticity. I was told to wait.”

“I don’t think we have the time,” Batman said.

Damian could tell what Batman was talking about. The missile had been transferred to the smaller truck, the money had been collected, and the arms dealers were starting to go their separate ways. Having no choice, Batman let the larger truck go. His immediate concern was the missile, and making sure it wasn’t used for whatever purpose the arms dealers could think up.

Batman watched as the guards began pulling back. Seeing his opening, Batman dropped to the ground and angled towards a guard. The man was the furthest out of the lookouts, which pulled Batman away from the box truck, but it gave him an opportunity to reduce his opponents by one.

Unfortunately, these guards were good. As soon as Batman silently took down his first guard of the night and ran towards a second, a warning cry rose among the guards. They immediately went into a defensive formation around the truck, and opened fire on Batman.

Unlike most of the henchmen that Batman was used to facing, these men obviously had some training. Their fire wasn’t the haphazard spraying of a bullet hose that he got from most gang members. This was carefully aimed, constant, accurate fire. The guards laid down an overlapping field of fire that gave Batman no chance to close the distance and possibly take down his adversaries.

All Batman could do was take cover and hope it would hold against the concentrated assault being thrown at him.

“I’m pinned down,” Batman said, “These guards have obvious military training.”

“I see you, Batman,” Oracle said, “I’m warning the incoming SWAT team of this new development. Can you retreat?”

“I can’t lose that truck, Oracle.”

“You can’t run through a lead curtain, either.”

The sound of a diesel engine rumbling to life caught Batman’s attention. The fire didn’t cease, telling Batman that the guards had at least one additional vehicle, if the truck wasn’t waiting for them.

“Oracle, have your drone track that truck. I’m going to try to get back to the Batmobile. I’ll need you to feed me coordinates.”

Batman stuck his head out of cover, only to pull it back, before he caught a bullet in the forehead. Growling, Batman said, “Try to slow that truck down.”

“How,” Oracle asked, “This is a camera drone, not an attack drone. What am I supposed to do, fly it into the truck’s windshield?”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Batman said.

“It only weighs three pounds, and it’s mostly made of plastic,” Oracle said, “It won’t even make a scratch in that truck’s windshield.”

“Then keep it over the truck, and let me know where it is,” Batman shouted.

Batman threw a smoke bomb and ran towards the nearest warehouse. He was able to make it without getting shot, and was able to put some space between him and the guards. Once the smoke deployed, the rifle fire stopped. The guards retreated to their own vehicles and pulled out of the warehouse complex.

Their job was done. The deal was made, and the truck was safely on its way, away from the prying eyes of Gotham’s master vigilante.

By the time Batman made it back to the Batmobile, even the memory of the sound of the truck’s diesel motor was gone.

“Oracle, tell me you have a location on that truck.”

Batman started up the Batmobile and left twin trails of burned rubber in his wake as he stomped the accelerator to the floor.

“Um, yes and no,” Oracle responded nervously.

“Now is not the time for this,” Batman said ominously.

“I tracked them out of the warehouse complex,” Oracle said, “They were heading south on Old Pass road.”

Batman thought for a second, “The canyon road? Why would they take that route?”

“They’re either looking to stay out of traffic camera view,” Oracle began.

“There are still no cameras on that road,” Batman pointed out.

“Or, Gotham City isn’t their final destination,” Oracle concluded.

Batman thought about Old Pass road for a second, “That road is a straight shot through the foothills. The only exit, except for a few turnouts and dead ends, is Sixty-third street. That leads directly to the Delano Bridge. You think they’re going to Bludhaven?”

Oracle took a breath, “Now that they know you’re on to them, it’s a lot safer over there than over here.”

“Where are they now,” Batman asked.

“Well, that’s the no part of my earlier answer,” Oracle said, “I told you, it’s a small camera drone. The battery died. I don’t even know where it crashed. The last report was about a mile into the canyon.”

Batman tried to hide his growl. Old Pass road, and the canyon it ran through, was nine miles in length. The truck was already at least a mile ahead of Batman. It didn’t matter how fast the Batmobile was, that lead would be hard to overcome before the end of the canyon.

“How long ago was the last report from the drone,” Batman asked.

“Almost three minutes,” Oracle said.

Batman groaned again, “So they could be at least three miles ahead of me right now.”

“Where are you,” Oracle asked.

“I just turned on to Old Pass road.”

Oracle didn’t like how this situation looked, and she didn’t want to be the one to point out the obvious. There was a good chance that they were going to lose track of a cruise missile.

This wouldn’t be a good night for any of them.

Batman drove the unfamiliar turns of Old Pass road, searching every turnout he could see, to make sure the truck didn’t try to hide from him. It had been over a decade since Batman had found himself on this road, and the path was not familiar. He had to slow down, to keep from crashing on some of the tighter curves.

_How could this happen? How could I lose something like a damn cruise missile? Where did they even get something like that? I hope Oracle called the Navy, to see if they are missing anything. I’d like to give whatever Admiral lost a multi-million dollar weapon of war a piece of my mind._

The Batmobile was equipped with many systems to improve driver and vehicle safety. They were all top of the line, and Batman knew without a doubt that he could trust all of them. So, when the forward collision detection system started beeping, Batman automatically hit the brakes. The system had never been wrong before, and it wasn’t wrong this time.

Batman rolled to a stop and was instantly on his guard. There, leaning heavily against the rock wall of the canyon, was his missing box truck.

_What happened here? I know it’s dark and this is a dangerous road, but I can’t see them just crashing for being reckless. Did they have another vehicle here, and switch trucks, to throw us off? The back door is closed. If I was abandoning one vehicle for another, I wouldn’t take the time to bother with closing up the vehicle I was leaving. No, they definitely crashed. But, why?_

Batman exited the Batmobile carefully, fully cognizant of his lack of available cover in this boxed-in roadway, and his enemy’s knack for highly accurate weapon’s fire.

The Dark Knight could hear voices from the front of the truck. He pulled a batarang from his belt and walked slowly up to look around the front side of the truck.

“Oh. Hi, Father. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Batman froze. He was at a loss for what he was seeing. It just didn’t seem possible to him.

“R-R-Robin?”

The Boy Wonder looked up after making sure the last zip tie was secure on his prisoners. The truck’s driver and passenger were unconscious and tied to the truck’s front bumper.

Robin gave a small smirk, “I haven’t checked the box yet. I don’t know if there are more men in there.”

That brought Batman back to the situation at hand, “Are they secured,” Batman asked.

Robin nodded, “They aren’t going anywhere.”

Batman and Robin walked to the back of the truck. Batman placed a hand in the center of Robin’s back and pushed him forward, “This is your catch, Robin. Go ahead, but duck after opening it, just in case.”

Robin walked up to the rolling rear door and shoved it upwards as hard as he could. He then hit the deck quickly. No weapons fire met the opening of the door. Batman shone a flashlight into the compartment. The only thing the Dynamic Duo saw was their errant missile.

“Clear,” Batman said.

Robin stood again, and Batman couldn’t stop staring at his uniformed son. “I don’t understand all of this, Robin.”

Robin shrugged, “It’s not all that hard. Batman needed back-up. That’s Robin’s job.”

“Is that a job that you still want?”

Robin took a deep breath, “It’s something I was born to do.”

“And, you’re okay with all of this,” Batman asked.

Robin looked around, “I’m back.”

_Back at the Cave…_

Bruce and Damian, following the safe handoff of the missile to a hastily dispatched military team, took a well-deserved shower after their long night.

Bruce called from his shower stall to Damian’s, “How did this all happen?”

Damian called back, “We got put in a situation tonight that could have ended just like the one in January. This was bigger than any of us, including you, could have handled on our own.”

“And you came up with this on your own?”

“Of course not,” Damian said, “I was told to take all the time I needed to heal. Well, we ran out of time tonight. I couldn’t let you face that alone, when there’s nothing wrong with me.”

Bruce turned off his shower and began toweling off, “How did you get yourself into your uniform? The last time I checked, you couldn’t even go into the locker room.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” Damian said, “You needed me. That was bigger than an irrational fear.”

Damian walked out of his shower, still drying himself with a towel. Bruce asked, “When did you leave the cave? Old Pass road isn’t exactly around the corner.”

Damian shrugged, “It’s not _that_ far away from the cave exit. I got dressed when you said you had no choice but to try to stop the truck. I was already on the road when Barbara said the truck was turning onto Old Pass road.”

“Did you at least tell Alfred you were leaving,” Bruce asked.

Damian blushed as he pulled his pajamas on, “You already grounded me for fighting with Jason. I can take a longer sentence, if it means you’ll be here to ground me.”

Father and Son left the locker room and sat in front of the Bat Computer. Bruce asked, “How did you stop the truck?”

“I picked a likely spot for the truck to slow down in a curve, then set up spikes,” Damian said. “They lost their front tire right where I wanted them to, and hit the canyon wall pretty hard. They were pretty dazed when I pulled them out of the truck, so knocking them out and tying them up was no problem.”

Bruce leaned back with a proud smile on his face. He held out a hand, and Damian walked over to take it.

Bruce pulled Damian into his lap and wrapped his arms around his boy, “Are you okay with all of this?”

Damian let out a slow breath as he melted into his Father, “I think it’s like when I first came down to the cave last week. Now that I’ve done it, it’ll get easier. I’m not scared of my uniforms anymore.”

“How about what might happen on the streets,” Bruce asked, “Are you still scared of that?”

Damian laid his head on Bruce’s shoulder, “I’m taking your advice. I’d rather be out there doing something, than here worrying about what’s happening while I’m not out there.”

“Dinah will be glad to hear this,” Bruce said. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Damian said softly.

“So, you’re fully back now?”

Damian shook his head, “No. There’s one more thing I need to do.”

_Friday Night…_

“Alright, everyone. Take a break.”

The sweating, panting Youth Team gladly trudged over to the table in the corner of the Mount Justice training room to get glasses of water. Nightwing and Red Robin had been working on an intricate defensive sequence with the kids, and they were finally starting to understand all of it.

“You guys are doing great,” Red Robin said.

“It doesn’t feel like we’re doing great,” Mercury gasped out.

Nightwing had noticed that the young speedster seemed to be having the most trouble grasping this set of moves. “Don’t get down on yourself. This is a hard set we’re teaching you.”

“It seems like you’re only teaching us the hard sets,” Beast Boy said.

“It’s worth the extra work,” Red Robin said, “Trust me.”

“You’re going to wear us all out for tomorrow, though,” Superboy said, “Did Mom and Dad put you up to this, so we all sleep through my party?”

Nightwing smirked, “Of course not. Your party is the whole reason we’re training tonight, instead of tomorrow.”

Superboy smiled.

Impulse sighed as she set her cup back on the table, “Are there any easy parts to this training?”

“It’s not worth doing if you don’t have to work for it.”

The youths froze at the sound of the new, yet familiar, voice in the room. Slowly, all five heroes in training turned to the door of the training room.

There, leaning against the wall, just inside the open door, stood a smirking Robin.

“No…no way,” Superboy breathed out.

“R-Robin,” Impulse asked in a shaky voice.

Robin pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the group, “What are you all waiting for? You had your break. Back to work.”

The youths didn’t go back to work. They rushed their much-missed leader and grabbed him in a tight group hug. Robin had been expecting this, but that still didn’t prepare him for the actual embrace. Surprising to his team, Robin returned as much of the hug as he could.

After a minute, the group broke apart, but still stood close by. A slightly blushing Robin said, “I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long. Thank you all for continuing with your training. The calls were nice, too. They really helped.”

“Is this for real,” Mercury asked.

Robin nodded, “This is real, and long overdue. Come on, we only have a little time left tonight. I want to see how soft you all have gotten under Nightwing and Red Robin.”

Robin took a place next to his older brothers and watched as the group pushed themselves through a self-defense sequence with renewed energy and vigor. Nightwing briefly squeezed Robin’s shoulder, and gave a short smile to the teen when he looked up.

Robin again watched his team, and couldn’t stop the small smile from creeping onto his face.

_I’m back._

**A/N: Another work completed. I really wish I had written this one when I first came up with the outline. I know I said that in another chapter, but I don’t like having these prompts sit around for so long. I will admit, I think this one turned out better than the original outline, but having outlines sitting around for a year or more before I write them makes me lose some of the excitement I feel when I first come up with an idea.**

**So, like I’ve also said before, my 2019 stories are trending towards the darker, angstier range. However, my next story will be a little lighter. I’ve got three of the six chapters done for that one already. I’m holding off on posting that one until it is fully completed. My publishing order will make sense once I start posting it.**

**Thanks for sticking with me all this time. I’d love to hear what you think of my works.**

**Thanks for playing along.**


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